Twelve Steps From Smallville
by IolantheAlias
Summary: Perry White got sober & turned his life around after meeting Clark Kent in the episode "Perry." But what happened after that? Why do all sorts of weird things happen around Clark Kent? Reporter Perry is curious.
1. Prologue

He swallowed nervously. He'd rehearsed it a thousand times, but the thought of telling his secret – for real – made him almost light-headed. He closed his eyes momentarily, cutting himself off from the curious eyes that watched him. He stood up, surprised at how wobbly his legs were at this moment. He thought he'd be able to just come right out and say it, but making the big reveal was astonishingly difficult. He could feel his heart, fluttering rapidly in his chest like a frightened bird. He held onto the back of his chair, steadying himself.

"Um…" he said, cursing his dry mouth. "Um…" This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd faced criminals, bad guys galore, even revenge-minded billionaires. And none of them ever frightened him as much as the idea of actually _telling_. Actually opening up and saying the truth.

He'd thought about wearing more formal clothing for this. Maybe he'd appear….better…in a three-piece suit with tie. But then he figured, _No, I am what I am, and changing my clothing won't make a difference._

He braced himself by figuring it was probably an ill-kept secret by now anyway. Even his friends….What had she said? _"The quick exits…the lame excuses…" _ Probably everyone he'd met knew there was _something_ funny about him. But half-known, gossiped conjectures were one thing; it was different to hear it confirmed from the subject's own lips.

He hoped he'd feel better after he told. It was hard to keep a secret. Especially one like this. It weighed on the soul, shattered his relationships. Everything else was subsumed in the need to conceal his secret. If he told, things would be very different. No more secrets, no more lies.

Somehow, he gathered his courage. _It's time. Do it now. _He took a deep breath, stood straighter. He nodded (almost to himself), and made the choice to speak.

"My name is Perry…" A pause. "And I'm an alcoholic."


	2. Step One

_**Step One: We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable. **_

"Fired?" Perry's hangover-sodden brain couldn't understand the word.

"Your employment at the _Daily Planet_ is terminated. Done. Finished. You're fired." Sam McWatters looked as distraught as Perry felt.

"What?" Perry still couldn't get it through his head.

"Perry, you've crossed one too many lines," Sam said.

Perry had the grace to look abashed.

"The tardiness, the absenteeism…" Sam continued.

"I can do better!" Perry retorted, realizing too late he was mumbling the words.

"You said that the last two times." Sam looked him straight in the eye. "And the last two times, you went to the employee assistance program. And you didn't change."

"Well…" Perry temporized.

"Can't you straighten up?" Sam almost pleaded.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Perry asked dully.

"That bad?" Sam sounded incredulous. "Perry, whatever possessed you to wear that Indian chief costume to the Halloween party again this year?"

Perry looked away.

Sam continued. "It wasn't just the crude remarks and dancing on the tables this year."

Perry grimaced, remembering how he'd made a fool of himself at the office Halloween party last year. For the next twelve months, mocking co-workers had called him "chief". He tried not to give away how much it irritated him.

Sam leaned forward over the desk. "No, Perry. You had to wear that stupid costume again this year. And, not only did you get spectacularly drunk, not only did you vomit in public, but you also hit on all the female staffers. And not just verbally." An expression of disgust crossed his face. "Whatever possessed you to start fondling Pauline Kahn's breasts?"

Perry closed his eyes to hide his surprise, and also to relieve the relentless light torturing his throbbing head. "It seemed a good idea at the time," he murmured. He didn't want to tell Sam that he'd totally forgotten the evening. Blackouts….

"The bosses saw that. And they saw you throwing up all over Pauline after she punched you in the stomach," Sam said dryly. "And now you're gone." He pushed an envelope across the desk at Perry. "Here's two weeks severance pay. You can keep your health insurance through COBRA for the next nine months." He didn't look happy.

Perry sat in the chair, only now grasping the conversation. "Fired?" How could they fire him? He'd been at the _Planet _for years. "Sam. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, Perry!" the other man almost shouted. He gained control of himself and lowered his voice to a near-hiss. "I kept the sexual harassment charges out of your record! Kahn wanted to throw the book at you!" Sam stopped to take a deep breath. "It's because of me keeping things out of your file that you might actually get your sorry ass hired again someday!" He gained control of himself. "All that's in there is the absenteeism and missed assignments."

Perry looked down in shame, speechless.

McWatters leaned back in his chair. In a gentle tone, he said, "Perry, you've been my mentor and friend for years here. And you're a good guy when you're sober. But you've got a hell of a drinking problem."

Anger coursed through Perry. But some little portion deep down inside knew the truth of Sam's statement, and kept him from walking out.

Sam continued. "I've helped you so far. But I've done as much as I can. And as much as I'm going to do." Firmness filled his voice. "I'm not going to enable for you anymore."

Perry felt sick, worse than the usual hangover.

"Get some help, Perry," the younger man said. "Go and get dried out. And if you're sober, come back here and apply for your job again. We have an opening for a dry Perry White." He stared directly at Perry. "Sober Perry White is a hell of a reporter. But there's no room for drunk Perry White." He pushed his chair farther back, distancing himself. "You can go now."

_Author's note: Feedback appreciated!_


	3. Step Two

_**Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.**_

Perry sat on the bus, trying to ignore the faint shaking of his hands. God, he wanted a drink. Well, it was a good thing he was on a bus and didn't have his flask anymore. He didn't know if his new resolve would hold up to temptation.

To distract himself from the incessant craving, he thought back to the events of the last few days. He'd gone to Smallville, Kansas, looking for some more filler for his current employer, the tabloid TV show "X-Styles." Why Smallville? It seemed a good a place as any, and there were an impressive number of internet hits for Smallville when he referenced "paranormal", "weird", and "alien". It was all about filling up his forty-five minutes of show time with the least amount of work possible.

He knew he'd hit the mother lode when he went into the Smallville High School newspaper office and saw the bulletin board. Licking his lips, he figured he could get at least two or three weeks out of this! The editor of the high school paper, the _Torch_, wrote her articles with a surprising clarity, and she was the one who'd put up all the clippings.

"It's called the Wall of Weird," she told Perry, before introducing herself as Chloe Sullivan.

Then, doing what he did best, he'd managed to insult her by suggesting she made it all up. No matter; she got her revenge, and twisted the knife, by recognizing his name.

"Perry White?"

"Yes?" he'd responded uncertainly.

"You were once the kind of reporter that I want to be." _Once. _

That hurt.

He'd shrugged off the hurt with alcohol, numbing himself as he usually did. After a few (or maybe five or six) drinks, he could make that nagging voice down deep inside go to sleep.

But he still needed a story. And he thought he'd found one.

Clark Kent. The kid was Johnny-on-the-spot. And there was something seriously freaky about him. How else could he have ignored downed power lines, ripped a car door off its hinges, and vanished into thin air? In fact, how had he appeared out of thin air just after a tractor had fallen from the sky, right next to Perry?

Perry had done a little research and found, to his interest, that Clark Kent seemed to have some sort of hero complex. He was in a ton of police reports as a bystander, or witness, or participant. And the crimes and the criminals were…weird.

They didn't call Perry the "pit bull" for nothing. Long-ignored journalistic instincts went into overdrive. There was a big story here, he could feel it. But how could he get the evidence?

And so, (Perry cringed in shame now), he'd set up a situation. A fake suicide attempt, so that Clark would be forced to save him. And reveal his supposed superhuman powers. A jump off the bridge over Shuster's Gorge, with a rope tied around his leg so that Perry would be OK.

Except it hadn't worked out that way. The kid had tried to save him, and they'd both gone over the edge. Their combined weight exceeded the strength of Perry's rope, and it had broken. It was only by the grace of God that Clark's friends had another rope with them, and that they'd been able to throw it down to Clark before Perry's rope broke.

When they made it safely back to the bridge, Perry took a look at the bleeding rope burns on Clark Kent's palms. He looked away in shame. Obviously this kid was no superhuman. What had Perry done? Kent could have been killed. And Perry too.

He spent the rest of that night in his motel room, just thinking, staring into the darkness. Something like this made him realize how low he'd sunk. It was truly divine intervention that had saved him today, Perry thought. The old saying that "God looks after fools and drunks" had certainly proved true today.

That morning, Perry straightened. He showered and shaved, taking extra care. He'd been sloppy so many mornings, too hung over and shaky to do a proper job. He looked at himself in the mirror.

"It's a sign from God," he told himself quietly. Yep, God had given him a kick in the pants. It was time to get sober. He was going to Metropolis on the morning bus. Perry picked up the motel phone book and looked up Alcoholics Anonymous.

"Where are some meetings today in Metropolis?" he asked.


	4. Step Three

_Author's note: references events in the "Smallville" TV show episodes "Exodus", "Exile", and "Reckoning". _

_**Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God **__**as we understood Him.**_

Perry slipped quietly into his usual chair at the back of the room. At the podium, a speaker was telling her story.

The thirtyish, attractive woman said, "And I would watch my children, late at night, while they slept, and I would cry, because I wasn't the kind of mother I wanted to be…."

He listened to the woman with half an ear as he adjusted his position on the folding chair. The "Friendly Friday Group of Freedom Park" (a neighborhood in Metropolis) had a noon meeting, obviously on Fridays. Perry was usually on time, but today he'd been talking with a source and it had gone on longer than he'd planned. The tardiness was worth it, though; Perry had gotten some dynamite information.

As ever, a tendril of discontent wormed its way up from his innards. _Too bad it won't be in the __**Planet**__, _Perry thought. He'd gone back there, hoping to be re-hired, but it seemed that, strangely enough, Pauline Kahn was still holding a grudge for the breast-fondling episode. Perry found himself shaking his head at his own previous stupidity.

So there was no hope at the _Planet _until Kahn either forgave him (Perry thought that would probably come at the same time as Hell freezing over or aliens landing on Earth), retired, or died. Fortunately, his contacts at the _Planet _had put in a good word for him, and Perry had managed to get a job at the _Metropolis Star. _

It wasn't the _Planet,_ but it was a very good mid-level newspaper. It did tend to focus more on intra-Metropolis news and Metropolis-suburb news than did the _Planet. _A tacit gentleman's agreement gave the _Planet _more of the international and national coverage, and the _Star _took on the state and local coverage. Not to say there wasn't a lot of overlap, but there was a slightly different focus.

Perry shifted restlessly in his chair; his feet were bothering him again. That's what came of running all over the city at his age. The feet had felt a lot better when he was younger. He focused his attention back on the speaker.

"And my husband kept on wondering why we ate bean soup all the time – he knew we had a big grocery budget. I couldn't tell him that I was spending it all on booze. But somehow he figured that out." The crowd laughed at the woman's dry tone.

Perry adjusted to a more comfortable position and looked around the room again. Let's see, there was Leo F. in the corner, Bill W. two rows from the front, and Bob L. in the row ahead, and Terri L., Bob's wife, sitting next to him. (Perry had heard both of their stories. When they married and Terri found out how much of a drinker Bob was, she figured that if she couldn't cure him, she'd join him. After a few years of that, they both ended up in AA.)

There was the usual crowd, Perry saw. He'd gotten to know all the regulars through almost a year of meetings now. He was proud, in a way, to realize that he trusted them all. They'd heard his story, listened to his shame, carved away his pretensions and rationalizations with the surgical precision of experience. They'd been there themselves. And Perry hoped that they trusted him. With regards to non-AA stuff, He'd already gotten tips on stories from several of the members; he carefully promised anonymity and had always delivered on it.

Perry thought back a moment to all the days he'd been sober so far. He finally had something to be proud about. He remembered the big Tri-County AA Conference he'd been at a few months ago. At that conference there had been a sobriety countdown – "stand if you've been sober for forty years" (one man stood); "thirty years…twenty years…ten years…" and so on until they got to one year. Then the countdown was by months, and Perry proudly stood at "eleven months." At the end, when the announcer said, "and stand if you've been sober for one day", everyone in the room stood. Perry knew the wisdom of this. He took it one day at a time. Heck, sometimes he took it an hour at a time. Or even five minutes at a time.

_And sometimes my Higher Power is my editor breathing down my neck right before deadline, _Perry thought sardonically. Whatever worked. He brought his attention back to the current meeting and the alto voice of the speaker, Barb F.

"Then we divorced, and my husband got custody of our daughters…" Barb continued. Perry felt a twinge of pain at how this mirrored his own situation. To distract himself, he checked the attendance behind him.

_Where have I seen that guy before?_ Perry asked himself. It didn't take long to remember. Hanging over Shuster's Gorge, his life depending on a young man's strength and a rotten rope, was an experience that tended to stay with one. _I wonder what Clark Kent is doing here, _Perry thought.

He kept chewing on that as the speaker finished, the crowd applauding a better-than-usually-told story. A basket passed around for donations to cover the coffee, donuts, and other expenses; Perry absently dropped in two dollars. The meeting broke up, and Perry eschewed the coffee table for once. He turned behind him and caught Clark's eye.

"Clark, isn't it?" Perry asked.

"Mr. White!" the kid replied. Obviously he remembered Perry well, too.

"It's Perry in here," the reporter said cheerfully. "You know we're anonymous." He almost laughed at the expression on Clark's face. "Can I buy you a coffee, Clark?"

He watched as discomfort and then acceptance washed over Clark's face. "That would be nice, Mr., um, Perry."

"There's a good diner about two blocks away," Perry said. "Just follow me." They walked together in silence, Perry enjoying the not-too-chilly late winter weather. Perry nodded at the waitress (Doris, had two kids, worked extra shifts to send them to a private religious school) and took his usual booth. He'd taken to coming here a lot. Not only did some members congregate for the "meeting after the meeting", but Perry met sources here too. He bought a lot of coffee for people.

After they'd placed their orders, Perry leaned forward over the Formica table, ready to make conversation. He was curious what brought Clark Kent to a Metropolis AA meeting. But Clark beat him to the punch.

"You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you, Mr. White," the kid said.

"It's Perry, Clark," the older man reiterated. "And yes, I've made some changes in my life - I hope and believe for the better." He felt an obscure sense of happiness at Clark's solemn nod. "I mostly owe it to you."

The kid shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm glad that something good came out of it," he said. Perry raised his eyebrows at the tinge of bitterness in Kent's tone.

"How's Smallville?" the reporter asked. "Your lady editor still on the paranormal beat?"

Clark gave a half-smile. "She's an intern at the _Daily Planet_ now, Mr.- ah, Perry. They want a little more evidence for those front-page articles than the Smallville High _Torch _required." Clark seemed happier talking about his friend, Perry noticed.

The waitress arrived with their coffee; Perry stirred two Sweet-n-Lo's into his and noted that Clark took his own coffee black.

"What does she think of Pauline Kahn?" Perry couldn't resist asking.

Clark gave him a steady look. "Chloe doesn't like her very much, but thinks she's a good editor."

Perry had to concede the truth of that. Kahn was a good editor; in Perry's opinion, she was also a first-class b!tch. He still had some resentment. _Got to work on that, Perry, _he told himself. _We can't live in resentment. We have to learn to forgive. _

"And what are you doing, M-, Perry?" the kid asked him. "Did you go back to the _Daily Planet?"_

"Ah, no, I didn't," Perry admitted. "My friends there put in a good word for me but didn't have enough clout to get me past the esteemed editor-in-chief." He wasn't going to tell Kent the whole story behind that.

Clark nodded.

Perry leapt in before Kent asked more questions. "And how about you? Are you still on the farm? How are your parents?"

He was unprepared for the grief which crossed Clark's face. The kid looked away – to hide tears, Perry thought.

"My father died a few weeks ago," Clark said softly.

"I'm sorry," Perry said lamely. He'd only met Jonathan Kent the one time, but despite their differences, the farmer had struck him as an upstanding man.

"It was hard to lose him," the young man continued. A pause; then Perry heard Clark say softly, "Now I don't know if I can be the kind of man he wanted me to become."

Perry sat still on his side of the booth. The naked sadness in Kent's voice reached to him. This was an important moment. Later on, he half-facetiously described it to himself as "God told me to listen". He'd become much more likely to attribute things to God since he turned over his life to a Higher Power. Although sometimes he wished that God would tell him to take a nap, or go out to a strip club. But _that_ never seemed to happen.

"Can you tell me about him?" Perry asked the kid softly.

There was a moment of silence, where Clark turned back to look at Perry. Perry hoped that the kid saw the sympathy in his eyes. Apparently he did, because Clark began speaking. "He was the strongest man I knew. Not on the outside, but on the inside…"

Perry nodded and made noises of agreement throughout the kid's monologue. The waitress refilled their cups several times. Perry kept a calm face, but inside he felt for the kid. Clark went on about how much his father had done for him, how good of an example he'd been, and how Clark had never appreciated him properly, and now it was too late.

Perry pricked up his ears. Clark said in a low tone, "And when I was sixteen, I ran away to Metropolis, and spent the whole summer on, um, drugs." Perry must have made a noise of surprise – _This kid? He's a straight arrow if I ever saw one. A regular Boy Scout – _because Clark gave a tiny, sad smile.

"My father staged an intervention and came to get me," the kid said. He went to say something else, choked it back. A moment of silence, then Clark said, "I know seeing me on drugs was really hard for my dad. I know that, and the intervention, really hurt his health. I can't help but feel my drug problem contributed to his death."

Perry didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to deny Clark's statement with platitudes. He'd heard enough stories in AA to know what substance abuse did to a family, how it caused stress, damaged marriages and health. He looked at Clark and nodded.

Clark went on. "So, I've gone to a few meetings here and there, and today I felt really…I felt like I should go."

"I know what it's like, kid," Perry replied. "Don't give in to the craving. Go to a meeting instead. Call your sponsor. Do something else for ten minutes." Hard-won experience colored his words.

Clark looked abashed. "Yeah. I could feel the drugs calling me. I was so angry."

"Hungry, angry, lonely, tired," Perry said. "I've found myself that those are the worst times for getting the craving." Their eyes met in sympathy. "Tell me more about your Dad," Perry said. "I've got a lot of coffee left in my cup."

* * *

An hour later, as they got up to go, Perry reached out to Clark, grasped his sleeve. "Clark, if you need to call anyone…" he reached into his wallet and pulled out his card. "And I'm usually at the Friendly Friday group."

Clark studied the card for a moment and put it into his own wallet. "Thanks, Perry," he said. They were definitely on a first-name basis now.

Perry pulled a few bills out of his wallet, leaving a generous tip for the waitress. "Next time you buy the coffee," he said jokingly. "Can I give you a ride anywhere? My car is in the lot down the block."

"Um, that's OK," the kid stammered.

"You sure?" Perry asked. "This isn't the best neighborhood."

"I think I'll be OK," Clark said, smiling.

Perry looked back at him. The smile was a lot more genuine now. Clark seemed to be more at peace.

"Yeah, I think you'll be OK too, kid," Perry said. "Just take it one day at a time."


	5. Step Four

_Author's note: references events in the "Smallville" TV show episodes "Vessel" and "Zod"._

* * *

_**Step Four: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. **_

"Alcoholics Anonymous," Perry said. "May I help you?" He sat back in the battered office chair and adjusted the telephone handset to a more comfortable position.

"Um, yeah," a male voice reported. "I was wondering if you could tell me if there's any meetings right now."

"Just a minute, let me check," Perry said, reaching over to a well-thumbed booklet. He quickly flipped to the "meetings-by-time" section. "Hmm, late night…looks like there's an eleven PM at the Metropolis-Carran Community Center over on Sixth and Montrose." His finger moved down the list. "And an eleven-thirty at the First United Methodist Church in the downtown area, on Trumbull Avenue, and a midnight at the YMCA on the West Side, on Delray Street. Any of those work for you?" Perry paused a moment. "Oh yeah, the midnight meeting is a non-smoking one."

"Thanks, man. I'll be heading out to the eleven p.m. Montrose goes all the way through from the freeway, doesn't it?"

"Yep. If you're coming from the freeway, get off at Exit Thirty-Eight, Montrose Ave, and turn right. Go about a mile and you're at the Community Center," Perry replied. His encyclopedic knowledge of Metropolis and surrounding environs was proving an unexpected bonus when he handled the AA hotline.

"OK. Thanks. One day at a time, bro." The man hung up. Perry knew the night, when the dark fears and deep cravings came out. It was better to go out and take in a meeting rather than to sit at home fighting temptation and maybe losing. He leaned back and stretched his arms.

It had been a fairly busy night. Dark Thursday was only a few weeks past, and the unexpected chaos had disrupted people's routines, shattered their carefully maintained sobriety rituals. Perry felt proud that AA had lost its hotline only for the few hours that communications were down; despite riots in the streets, crumbling buildings, and even unexplained earth tremors, the volunteers had kept on coming to man the telephones.

So a lot of recovering alcoholics and addicts called for extra meetings, for information on cancelled or moved-to-a-new-building meetings, or just to talk. Perry found that he needed to do something other than his job, even though that kept him busy enough. Since he had a fairly flexible schedule, he filled in at the hotline at least one four-hour shift a week, and sometimes more. It never failed to reinforce his sobriety.

The phone rang again, but this time Doris, his co-volunteer, answered it. By the look on her face, and by her conversation, this was serious. Someone had decided to take the first step and call AA. Perry knew how frightening that was, making that first call. Doris was an old hand at soothing callers; she'd get the information from this person. Then she'd refer them to a meeting, or she'd arrange for a couple of AA members to make a Twelfth Step visit to this caller. The members would counsel the newbie and get him or her going in AA.

Perry's phone rang again. "Alcoholics Anonymous."

"Hey, man, the judge said I had to go to AA. How do I do that?"

Perry sighed as he gave information to the caller. They got a lot of calls based on DUI convictions. And a lot of people would attend their court-ordered meetings, and then go out and drink and drive again.

He looked at the clock. With all the calls, his shift had passed quickly. It was already after midnight. He and Doris packed up, leaving the calls to the answering service. It was too hard to get volunteers for the dead-of-night shifts, and most drunks were well into their drinking by then. It was more productive to be there in the morning when the drunks sobered up.

"Hey, Doris, everything OK with Fred and the kids?" Perry asked as they gathered their coats and went out onto the street.

"Fine, Perry. We're going to take a week off next month and head out for a fishing vacation."

"Glad to hear that, Doris." He walked with her to her car, stood by as she got in and buckled up. "You take care, now." He liked Doris. She'd been a waitress, later a bartender and had heard it all. Then she started sampling the wares and ended up in the Friendly Friday group. She had a tolerance for human frailty but didn't put up with any crap.

Perry chuckled as he remembered one of her bartender stories. Doris told Perry that the owner of the bar she used to work at would supply all his bartenders with uniforms. When she got the uniform for the first time, she discovered that all the pockets were sewn shut.

And, thinking of bartenders….that reminded him of Karl K., who had stood up in a meeting and said, "I was drinking so much I was having blackouts. I was kind of concerned and thought I might need some professional help." Pause. "So I asked my bartender." (Rim shot. Laughter from the crowd.) "My bartender said, "Ah, don't worry! It happens to me all the time!"

Perry chuckled again at the memory. He looked down at Doris' receding taillights and set off on the twelve-block walk back to his own apartment. Perry had considered driving, but decided against it. Not only did he need the exercise (he tended to meet with sources in diners, coffee shops, and around food and drink), but the disruption from the events of Dark Thursday still affected the streets.

Case in point: rubble still littered the street, not just gravel but large blocks. City services had pushed the large rubble over to the curbs but hadn't picked it up yet, leaving only one-and-a-half lanes open, at best, on this nominally two-lane street.

Perry set off at a brisk pace, keeping alert to his surroundings. This wasn't the worst neighborhood in Metropolis – certainly not like Suicide Slum – but it wasn't the best either. He looked behind him for a moment, feeling a tingling on his neck, as if he were being watched.

Perry peered ahead – was that movement in the next block? Too difficult to see, with most streetlights being out and the moon in its dark phase. A few lonely storefront lights and neon signs pushed back the black curtain of night, but their fitful illumination served only to emphasize the darkness past their bounds.

Definitely footsteps behind him now. Perry increased his pace a little. Any mugger would definitely be disappointed by the thinness of his wallet, but he'd prefer not to let them check it out.

He moved past the cross street (one working streetlight here, hurrah) down onto the next block. Perry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't realized that the city had come through and cleaned up this street yet. But apparently it had, because all the rubble had been removed, the street swept, and even a severely damaged building was braced and …._is that rebuilt? _Perry stopped in surprise and peered again. There was an odd blur at the other end of the block – was the city cleaning now? Certainly not at midnight. Was it someone? He couldn't tell for sure.

Perry regretted stopping when a hand grabbed him from behind. It spun him around, and Perry found himself staring into the barrel of a handgun. That didn't worry him as much as fact that the person who was holding it was a obvious, trembling junkie in need of a fix.

"Gimme your money," the junkie said.

Short and sweet. The demand, and the gun. Perry tried to back away a little. The twenty bucks in his wallet wasn't enough to get shot over.

"OK," he said. He tried to put reason into his voice. "Hey, you've gotta let go of my arm so I can reach my wallet."

Apparently this idea was too complex. Or maybe the junkie was having a really bad day.

"Don't think so," the mugger said. He raised his other hand, the gun hand. Perry saw his finger tighten on the trigger.

_This is it, _Perry thought. Somehow he was more upset about not being able to finish the story he was working on than getting killed. With the icy-clear comprehension that comes with a life at stake, Perry realized there was no hope for him. The gun was pointed right at him, from three feet away. He heard a bang and felt a rush of wind.

Then Perry was gasping on his knees, the wind knocked out of him, but not the blinding pain he expected with a gunshot wound. He turned his head to one side; the junkie lay unconscious on the ground. Perry looked up to see a hand reached out for him. He grasped it and pulled himself up.

"Clark Kent," Perry said wonderingly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," the kid – no, the young man – said. "I saw you getting mugged and I pushed the guy away."

"Just in time, too," Perry said, shaking in delayed reaction. _I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die. _

"What about this guy?" Clark said disdainfully, poking at the erstwhile mugger with a foot. "We've got to take him to the police."

"Yeah, like the police would care about this when they're dealing with the aftermath of Dark Thursday," Perry said cynically. His heart still raced.

"I don't want to leave him here," Clark said stubbornly. He picked up the gun and after engaging the safety, stuffed it into a pocket.

"OK, then. There's a precinct house about five blocks that way," Perry said in exasperation. He knew the location of every police precinct in Metropolis, and had contacts at most of them.

"OK." With an ease that stunned Perry, Clark lifted the unconscious junkie into a fireman's carry and set off in the direction of the police station. Perry scrambled to keep up.

As he walked, Perry's breathing slowed and he stopped shaking. Then his mind began working again. He looked at his companion, striding straight and tall despite carrying an (admittedly thin) man. How had Clark Kent knocked away the mugger in time? Perry would have sworn that no one was within a block of them. He certainly hadn't seen Clark, although to be fair, the latter's navy blue jacket and denim jeans did blend in with the shadows.

And how had Clark not only disarmed the mugger, but knocked him unconscious? Unless Perry had been knocked unconscious himself (which he couldn't rule out) it had happened really quickly.

"Do you know tae kwon do or something?" Perry blurted out.

Clark gave a momentary smile. "No. I just do a lot of farm labor. You can get some pretty good muscles baling hay." He adjusted the junkie's position slightly. "I'm stronger than I look."

Perry stared once again, saw Clark not even breathing hard as he carried the junkie, walking at a rapid pace. Perry knew he himself would be gasping within a block.

They reached the precinct house; lonely strands of light spilled out through barred windows. Before they came into view of the door, Clark stopped.

"Can you do me a favor, Perry?" he asked.

"What?"

"Don't mention my name."

Perry must have looked surprised, because Clark went on, an abashed expression on his face. "Well, my mother doesn't know I'm here in Metropolis, late at night."

Perry smiled inwardly, then gave up and chuckled. "Past your bedtime?"

Clark returned a reluctant smile. "Actually, I was visiting my girlfriend – "

"The lady editor?"

"Yeah. And my mother would be worried to know that I'd strayed into a bad area. And it might not look OK for her reelection campaign."

"Oh. That's right. Your mom is a senator." Perry put the pieces together.

"And I'm really tired of newspaper publicity," Clark said earnestly. "We had enough of that during the campaign."

"What about this guy?" Perry asked, indicating the stirring junkie.

"He tried to mug you, an anonymous Good Samaritan helped you out, and you're making a citizen's arrest here."

Perry considered it for a moment. It went against the grain. He was a reporter. On the other hand, a simple mugging wouldn't get much newspaper space. And Clark had saved his life – he'd earned this favor. Although Perry's newspaperman intuition told him that the excuses given for anonymity weren't the whole story.

"OK," Perry said. "You're anonymous." The two both smiled as they remembered the meetings they'd attended together.

"Thanks, Perry," Clark said. "I'll drop him off inside, and then I'll be on my way." He shook hands with Perry and strode to the precinct entrance.

Perry stood still just a moment, then hurried to follow. The handshake stimulated a sudden flashback. It left him wondering. Back when they'd met in Smallville, Clark got rope burns on his hands from saving Perry from Perry's fake (and almost all-too-real) suicide attempt. Perry had seen the blood himself.

But the very next morning, when Perry got on the bus to Metropolis, Clark had shaken his hand. And there were no rope burns on the palms then. Perry had forgotten this till now, the whole episode a strangely surreal montage of images, mixed up in memory till he wasn't sure what had really happened and what was a hallucination or delirium tremens. But shaking Clark's hand now, the touch of the smooth palm and strong fingers, brought back a vivid memory of the handshake at the bus stop. Perry could feel no scars on the other's palms now.

And when Perry stepped in the police station, the cops just now responding to the presence of unconscious junkie on the floor, Clark was gone.

Perry made absent responses to the cops' questions, his mind racing all the while. Let's see. Clark was strong, he was fast, and he seemed to heal really quickly too. How did he do that? Perry suddenly remembered Chloe Sullivan's "Wall of Weird" in Smallville and her contention that meteor rock affected people, gave them powers. If Perry could get proof, God, what a story that would be.

Then Perry thought about step four. "Searching and fearless moral inventory." His curiosity, his reporter's persistence, was at once both his greatest strength and greatest weakness. A feeling came to him. Was this any way to repay Clark for saving his life? If Perry persisted in this, he would hurt Clark. Perry knew that Clark wanted to avoid the limelight. Look at how Clark had asked for anonymity today.

OK. This once, he could stifle his reportorial instincts. He wouldn't put Clark's name in the paper. He wouldn't actively pursue an investigation. It would be tough, cramming down that worm of curiosity, but Perry could do it. He could work on other stories.

_And besides, _Perry thought, rationalizing it and feeling happier, _I did promise him anonymity._

* * *

_Author's note: Thanks to EllenF and her marvelous fic, "Shades of White", where she pointed out that Perry would have noticed that Clark's hands healed overnight. The URL is __ellyfanfiction./2007/04/welcome-to-planet.html__. Highly recommended, along with the rest of the work on Elly's site, at (fanfiction dot net for some reason won't let me type the URL:) Ellyfanfiction - dot- blogspot - dot - com.) (sound this out). Don't miss this fine author's work. _


	6. Step Five

_Author's note: References events in the "Smallville" TV show episode "Promise". _

_**Step Five: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. **_

"Well, _that _went well," Perry said sarcastically. He pounded the car seat next to him with frustration and thought about blowing the horn five or six times just to let off steam. Unsaid retorts quivered at the tip of his tongue, and his stomach churned with retained bile.

He wanted a drink. Right now, he wanted a drink. Badly. Anger – always a difficult emotion to deal with. But Perry recognized the "caution" signs now. He ruthlessly shoved down the longing, turned his thoughts away from the craving in a practiced minuet.

_OK, White, go visit your source. Get some work done on that article. _Throwing himself into his work helped stop the craving, got his mind off the desire for a drink and onto another path. Perry mashed the accelerator to the floor. Tires squealing, he set off for Suicide Slum

By the time he reached the abandoned building that was to be his rendezvous, Perry had cooled a bit. Common sense lifted its head, asked to be recognized and have the floor. _What the hell am I doing here an hour early? You know it's not a good idea to hang around Suicide Slum! You're just fresh meat for the predators here. _

He stayed where he was. He'd gotten a hot tip on a major drug story, and he wasn't going to mess it up by failing to connect with his source. Perry turned the ignition key to "off"; his car's lights faded away, and his ten-year-old beater fit right in on the streets of the slum. Perry slid down in the seat to be less visible, staying just erect enough to peer over the dashboard.

The cooling car made a few popping and crackling noises in the brisk autumn air. Perry kept the windows rolled up, not just for temperature control but for safety. He hoped to lie low here, avoid notice until he could meet with the source.

He kept a close eye on his surroundings. A few lonely derelicts passed by, but in this neighborhood you could fire a cannon down the street after dark and not hit a single soul. Behind Perry's car, several burned-out buildings had collapsed. In the lots next to them, the city had at least cleared the debris of urban wastage, leaving what amounted to an open meadow. One time, Perry had come here during the day, and had actually seen quail wandering through the meadow, hiding in the tall grass of the lot between two condemned and crumbling buildings.

Perry looked up at the sunset. The red sky silhouetted a tree – more than just a sapling, a fairly good-sized tree – growing on the roof of the building next door. A former apartment building, the three-story brick structure had long ago lost its doors, windows, gutters, piping, and anything remotely valuable. Scrap metal scavengers, bums looking for a place to stay, drug addicts seeking shelter to shoot up – all had done their bit to bring the building to the status it enjoyed now. That is, waiting for demolition. A large "Condemned – Unsafe" sign decorated the front of the building, next to the gaping black hole that had once been its entrance doors.

A tiny blur of motion caught Perry's eye. He widened his eyes in surprise. He recognized that red jacket. This person definitely wasn't his source. And he definitely didn't belong here. In fact, Clark Kent would be fresh meat for the predators of Suicide Slum. Perry had an uneasy feeling as to why the Smallville kid would be here, now.

Without even realizing it, Perry opened the door and followed Kent to the apartment building. That kid must be fast, he thought. In the time Perry took to get out of the car, Kent had gotten half a block to get to the apartment "door".

Perry walked quickly to the opening in the brick façade of the building. He looked up nervously. A faint smudge of dust still hung in the air, and he could see Kent's footsteps amidst the debris scattering the floor of the former lobby. The twilight didn't give enough illumination to see more. Perry pricked up his ears. Was that a scream? Or a shout? Or both?

He heard a sound. What was it? It sounded sort of like a jackhammer. But it wasn't. And mixed with the rapid pounding was a low, fierce moan or growl. Then Perry looked up in alarm as the building gave an ominous creak. For just a moment, he thought he saw a red-and-blue figure, punching the walls, in the stair landing. Or was it just a blur? The rapidly darkening twilight concealed more than it revealed.

"Clark!" Perry called. To the devil with trying to remain concealed now. He owed it to Clark to get him out of a bad situation. That kid didn't realize what he was getting into. "Clark!" Perry called again.

With a slow, majestic creaking, the building _shivered. _Perry felt his stomach clench as he realized where he'd seen that before. Oh yes. It was on September 11, 2001, where he'd watched in horrified fascination as the Twin Towers of the Global Commerce Center had shiveredthat way, right before they collapsed.

"Oh, sh!t," Perry said quietly. The building was making more ominous noises. He called once more – "Kent!" – as he turned on his heel to run out the door. But he knew, with a cold sickness deep in his gut, that he was too late. The building was going to collapse on him. He would die here.

Perry ran for the door opening. He seemed to be running in slow motion; the door tauntingly receded from him, nightmare-like. He inhaled dry plaster dust sifting down from the upper floors. The door was only a few feet away. _Just a few more steps…_

The building collapsed on him. Everything went black.

Perry awoke with a pounding headache. Detachedly, he compared it to a hangover headache. Similar intensity, but different feeling. What had happened? Oh yes. A building fell on him. He thought about opening his eyes, and decided not to. No doubt he was crushed or paralyzed or something. There certainly was a feeling of pressure over his body.

He could hear strange crashing noises in the background. It was probably the building settling. The pressure on his body lightened.

"Mr. White? Mr. White?" an anxious voice queried him. A hand touched his head.

"Mr. White? Are you OK?" the voice asked.

Slowly Perry opened his eyes. Dust sifted from his eyelashes, and automatically he reached up to wipe it away. Joy raced through him as Perry realized he could move. He wasn't paralyzed. He coughed.

"Mr. White?" the voice asked again.

Perry turned his head just a bit, and winced at the stab of pain. Who was that? "Clark. Clark Kent," he mumbled. Why did Clark look so blurry? Perry rubbed his eyes again and Clark came into a little better focus. With the strange focus of reportorial instinct, he noticed that Clark's red jacket was torn and dusty, like a building had fallen on it. Clark looked concerned.

"Clark?" Perry mumbled again.

"Perry," Kent replied, sounding relieved. "The building fell down. You got hit in the head. I think you have a concussion."

"Oh," Perry said distantly. "That explains it."

"What?" Clark replied.

"The way I feel," said Perry, and promptly slipped back into unconsciousness.

Sirens and flashing lights roused him. "You're going to Metropolis General," Clark told him. It was full night now. Most of the dust had sifted out of the cool night air by now.

"OK," Perry replied dully. He realized that he couldn't move his head – it was restrained in a cervical collar. And he was strapped to a stretcher. In fact, the ambulance attendants were lifting him inside right now. He moved his eyes to one side and saw his car.

Even through the pain and daze caused by his concussion, Perry could feel chagrin and incredulity. Damn. A big piece of building debris had crushed the car roof. If he'd been sitting in the front seat, he'd have been a pancake.

A bright light caught his attention. The EMT was checking his pupil sizes with a penlight, and apparently wasn't satisfied by the results, based on his frown. Perry decided to do something about that. "Don't do that," he said, reaching up to the EMT….

And the next moment, the bright light was the morning sun, streaming in through the blinds of a hospital room. Perry awoke and checked the headache – much less now.

He made an inarticulate noise, and suddenly a figure stood beside him.

"Mr. White?"

"Clark, I thought I told you it was Perry now," Perry said.

"Perry. How are you feeling?"

Before he answered, Perry checked out his toes and fingers. They all moved. Despite feeling like a building had dropped on him, bruised and battered, Perry was happy.

"Well, I've felt better," he said. "But I think I'm going to be OK."

He turned his head and caught Clark's subtle sigh of relief. Perry got that hinky feeling about Clark Kent again, and decided to ask. "What happened anyway?"

Clark sighed and looked away. "Well, um, Perry, the building collapsed. You made it out the door, but a block must have hit you on the head."

Perry let that one sit there for a minute while he examined it. It sounded plausible. But, even though he'd been hit on the head, Perry remembered one thing. He hadn't made it to the door. The door had been his salvation, and he had missed it. Perry remembered not making it out, being ready to die.

_Time to find out more, then. _"I'm glad you found me, Clark," Perry said mildly.

"Um, yeah, you're welcome."

"By the way, Clark, just what were you doing there anyway?" Perry shot the harpoon with precise aim.

"Uh…" Perry had Clark at a loss now.

"I know what you were doing there," Perry said flatly. "I've been reading the papers." He spared a moment to smile inwardly at the ironic line, but kept his outer demeanor serious. "Your girlfriend got married to someone else, didn't she?"

Clark gaped at him in surprise.

Perry continued. "And you couldn't take it." He kept his gimlet gaze on Clark. "I saw how much you cared for her that time I was in Smallville." He caught a flicker in Clark's expression. "And Lana Lang married Lex Luthor. And you couldn't take it." The next statement would be tough on the kid, but Perry had learned by now that honesty was the only way. "So you came down to Suicide Slum to do a drug deal. You were going to go back on drugs, weren't you?"

Perry caught Clark's ashamed expression. "Um…." Clark mumbled.

"Clark, the only reason a nice Smallville kid like you would be down in Suicide Slum is because of drugs. Why else? Admit it. You were setting up a drug buy."

Clark stayed silent for a moment, this time not looking away from Perry's intent gaze. After a moment, he sighed again.

"I did think about…doing drugs again," Clark admitted. "I can't deny that." He looked like he wanted to say something more, but didn't know how to say it. "But I didn't."

"Go on," Perry said neutrally. He was pretty good at detecting a liar, and he didn't think Clark was lying now.

"When I saw that "Condemned" sign on the building, I just wanted to go in and punch something, even if it was a brick wall." Clark gave a rueful smile. "I figured that was better than going back to the drugs."

Perry stared at him for a long moment. Clark's confession had the ring of truth.

"Well, you must have hit the building in just the right way," Perry said sarcastically, "because it collapsed. _And _hit my head. _And _gave me a concussion. _And _destroyed my car."

A grimace flashed across Clark's face. "Um, I'm sorry…" he trailed off.

"Oh, what the hell, kid, it's not your fault," Perry allowed. "I'm sure the collapse was just a coincidence. I've got a hell of a headache here and I'm taking it out on you."

Clark said nothing, just looked guilty.

Perry adjusted his position in the hospital bed, and gave a quick hiss of pain. Maybe the meds they had him on weren't enough. From his drinking days, Perry's liver was well-versed in detoxification. He could handle much higher doses than the average person.

In fact, did they even give you pain meds when you had a concussion? Perry didn't know. Suddenly the anger left him, and he just felt tired.

"Clark," he began.

"Yes?" the kid looked at him warily.

"Just let me tell you one thing." Perry glanced steadily at his visitor. "I've got some problems now – the concussion, the lack of a car, not meeting my source last night –"

"Sorry about that," Clark interjected. Apparently the kid couldn't stop apologizing, Perry thought.

"But if there's one thing I've learned over the past two years, it's that these things…I can handle these things. I can handle them – _if _I have my sobriety." He hoped Clark was picking up on the serious tone of his voice. "That's why I don't want to see you go the same way I did – wasted opportunities, wasted years…" Perry looked away for a moment, then turned back to the young man.

Clark stared at the floor.

Perry continued. "And I know it's hard losing your girl." He took a deep breath. "Do you want to know why I was really down there?"

Clark said nothing, but met his eyes in a curious look.

"I went to do a Fifth Step with Alice," Perry admitted. "Alice is my ex-wife," he told Clark. "You know Fifth Step?"

"Yeah," Clark said softly.

"So I went to apologize to her, and she listened a little bit, and then she threw me out. She's still mad at me for all the drinking. And not being there. And messing up her credit, and all the money stuff. And our kids…" Perry trailed off. "I wanted to tell her how much I regretted all of that," he said, almost to himself. "She's still pretty mad. She turned me away."

A long moment of silence. Perry felt, rather than saw, Clark's half-curious, half-sympathizing gaze on him.

"So I came to Suicide Slum to work," Perry said. "It was either work or drink. And I know where drink got me."

"I'm sorry," Clark said quietly.

"Well, I did a lot of things when I was drinking that I'm sorry for now," Perry said. "And I'll come back to Alice and try to apologize again. I don't know if she'll listen to me. But I'll keep on trying."

Clark nodded.

"So, kid, I don't know what's going on with you and your girlfriend, other than what I read in the papers," Perry finished. "Don't get into the drugs. They only make things worse. Just keep on trying. Keep on trying to do the right thing."

Clark nodded again. He essayed a tiny smile. "I was supposed to buy the coffee this time," he said.

Perry went to shake his head ruefully, stopped as a stab of pain pierced him. "I'll take a rain check," he said.

A noise at the door alerted them both to the presence of the floor nurse. "It's time for your meds," she told Perry, giving Clark a significant look at the same time.

"Um, it's time for me to go, but I'll visit you tomorrow," Clark told Perry.

"I hope I'll be out of here by tomorrow," Perry said.

"I'm not sure about that, Mr. White," the nurse said. "You got quite a bang on the head. You might be here for a few days."

Perry almost missed the flash of guilt that crossed Clark's face.

"Good-bye, Perry," Clark said, shaking his hand. "I'll stop by tomorrow."

Perry was strangely pleased. The young man exited the room, and Perry lost himself to the ministrations of the nurse.

Later on, half-asleep, he began having weird dreams. Or were they due to the pain meds? Or the concussion? He remembered running for the door, trying to get out of the building before it collapsed, and the door retreating from him in the strange way of dreams. And he remembered being borne to the floor by a heavy force. Turning his head, he saw the force was Clark Kent, who had tackled him somehow and was lying on top of him. And he saw a chunk of plaster and ironwork hit Clark on the head. But in the weird way of dreams, the chunk of debris, enough to crush Perry, bounced off Clark's head, shattering as it did so.

And more and more debris fell on them, but Perry was safe with Clark Kent's body covering his. Perry dreamed of plaster dust falling into his eyes, and having to close them, until the noise of the falling building stopped. Then he opened them, just in time to see Clark, buried under building debris – huge boulders of plaster, chunks of rusted support beams – stand up slowly and scatter the detritus with almost a casual stretching of his arms. The debris shot away from Clark like…like…well, Perry couldn't think of the right words in this dreamy half-awake state. All he knew was that it looked like Clark was throwing one-ton chunks of building debris around like they were pebbles.

And then Perry saw Clark looking down at him in a weird way, squinting almost. Perry remembered, blurrily, the concern in Clark's eyes, before Perry lost consciousness.

_Got some weird dreams here, Perry, _he told himself. Clark was right – Perry had to have made it out the door. No one could have survived the collapse of the building. Perry was concerned about the kid – he'd had some connection with Clark ever since the Smallville visit – and no doubt in his eagerness to warn Clark off drugs, and with the head injury, Perry was fabricating events.

He had to be hallucinating. Perry wrote so many newspaper stories – probably one human interest story every week - about local heroes. Now he was putting himself in one of those stories, he told himself. It had to be a dream. No one could shrug falling bricks off like confetti. No one could pick up steel beams and throw them off. What Perry thought he remembered was impossible.


	7. Step Six, Part One

_**Step Six: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. **_

Perry inhaled the cool dawn air and looked eastward. Pink streaks in the blue sky heralded the approach of sunrise and forecast a beautiful day. There wasn't yet enough light to reflect off the Art-Deco doors of the _Daily Planet _building. He smiled as he pushed the doors open.

"I'm back," he whispered to himself.

It was curiously satisfying. Sure, he was stuck in the basement (_for now_, he told himself). And he would be working his way up from the bottom. But he'd done that before and he could do it again.

It didn't hurt that his nemesis, Pauline Kahn, had finally retired. When Perry got wind of the news, he pulled strings and stroked his contacts with all his might. Sam McWatters had proven a good friend – he'd made sure that the _Planet_ did indeed have room for a sober Perry White.

Perry quietly walked into the basement newsroom. The maze of cluttered desks, file cabinets, and tables would have confused a newcomer. But Perry welcomed the sight.

His eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of a figure at one of the desks – the only person, besides himself, in the deserted room. Perry had deliberately come here early to be first, so he could see his colleagues-to-be. The other, alerted by some small sound Perry had made, turned to face him.

"Ms Sullivan," Perry said in almost-surprise. It made sense. Perry knew that Chloe Sullivan was working at the _Planet._ And based on what he'd seen of her work in Smallville, and the articles she'd had published in the Metropolis newspaper, she worked hard. And hadn't Clark Kent said he met with her late too? It figured she'd be here early.

"Mr. White," she replied after a moment. Unlike Clark Kent, she hadn't seen him numerous times since the Smallville episode. However, they had crossed glances last week when Perry was in for his interview and paperwork, so he knew his presence wouldn't be a total surprise to her.

"Please, call me Perry," he said, advancing to her and offering his hand. "Since we're to be colleagues here in the basement."

She gave a wry smile at that as she shook his hand. "Only if you call me Chloe," she said. "When I hear people call me "Ms Sullivan", I always feel I'm back in school and the principal is about to scold me."

"Well, I'm over that by now," Perry said lightly. There was an awkward silence. Then they both moved to fill it.

"So, you're back at the _Planet_," she said.

"Maybe you could tell me something about the other reporters here," Perry said simultaneously.

They each broke off and, meeting each other's gazes, broke into laughter.

Perry went first. "Yeah, I started going to AA and got my life in order, and well, I'm back." _Might as well get that out right away._

Chloe only raised her eyebrows at that. "Well, there's about fifteen to twenty semi-regulars that hang out here in the basement – interns, externs, junior photographers and research newbies, cub reporters, you name it." Perry nodded. "Don't you know who they are already?" Chloe asked him challengingly.

Oh, she was good. She knew there was no way Perry the Pit Bull would come into a _Planet _job without doing some spadework. Perry raised his eyebrows in turn. He did know a bit about all the reporters at the _Planet._ What interested him was that Chloe knew that he knew.

"Well, I spent most of my research time on the personnel on the upper floors," Perry said, mostly truthfully. "I mean, most of my contemporaries have moved on or out of this floor."

Chloe gave a wry grimace at that. For a moment, its significance escaped Perry. Then he realized – she must have been here in the basement almost three years now. That was unusual. If you were bad, you got fired. If you were mediocre, you got encouraged to look elsewhere, or you got fired, or you quit after you realized you weren't going to make it up to the Tiffany-lamp floors. But if you were good – and Perry thought that Chloe Sullivan was good – you'd move upstairs in a lesser time than three years. Eighteen months to two years seemed to be about the maximum time. Why hadn't Chloe moved upward? Perry mentally promised himself an investigation.

He kept a poker face. Chloe turned and walked to the first desk in her row. "This is Bob Newsom's desk. He's an intern at Met U…" She went around the room, naming the occupant of each station, giving a little detail about each person. It impressed Perry, how much Chloe Sullivan knew about each colleague.

And two other things impressed him. One: she obviously knew more about each fellow reporter than she was telling him. Chloe only gave him easily-obtained data, nothing that would invade privacy. She could keep her own counsel.

And two: Perry had an idea that, although Chloe knew a lot about her fellow reporters, they knew little about her, other than the façade she chose to present. It was a good façade, Perry allowed; but meeting Chloe Sullivan in Smallville four years ago – a younger, less cautious Chloe Sullivan – gave Perry a different perspective.

It didn't take them long to go through the basement staff. Perry made mental notes from what Chloe had told him, comparing it with the skeleton knowledge he'd gotten before coming in.

"Thanks," Perry said to her. "Now, I've got to get settled in." He picked up his briefcase and coffee cup from her desk, walked over to the desk Chloe had indicated was for him, and set his items down. Despite his outward calm, he trembled inside. He was back at the _Daily Planet_! Then he swore quietly as his coffee cup rolled off and underneath the desk.

He bent down to get it. Drat! He was going to have to crawl. Maybe this was a bad omen. Perry slowly got down on hands and knees (it was a lot more troublesome to do this than it had been twenty years ago) and worked his way back. Of course, the cup had rolled to the maximum inconvenient distance. He grabbed it, and took a minute to catch his breath. Man, he was getting out of shape. Kind of a good view from here, though – he could see the bottom of the doors, and most of the other desks, and Chloe Sullivan's feet and ankles.

Perry started backing out when something at the corner of his eye attracted his attention. He looked again. Now _that _was interesting. Suddenly there were two sets of legs to be seen – not only Sullivan's neatly shod, interesting-looking gams, but another, obviously male, set decked out in muddy boots and blue jeans. The footwear wasn't all that interesting. What _was_ interesting about it was that Perry hadn't seen the other feet walk through the door and to Sullivan's desk.

Perry worked his way out and stood up slowly. Of course. It had to be Clark Kent.

"Clark!" Perry said, in a friendly fashion, approaching the young man. "Don't you have to be milking those cows at this hour?" he asked, needling Clark.

"Um, Perry," Clark replied. "I didn't see you…" Then, collecting himself, he said dismissively, "Oh, the cows are fine."

Chloe took control of the conversation, addressing her remarks to Clark. "Mr. White is – "

"Perry," Perry said firmly.

" – _Perry _is back at the _Planet, _Clark," Chloe explained. "He's going to be with me and the others in the basement."

Judging from Clark's expression, the thought didn't fill him with glee. Then Clark got his face under control and reached out to shake Perry's hand.

"Congratulations," Clark said. "I know that the _Planet _is the only place to be. Chloe's taught me that." He dodged a playful swat from Chloe. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you're doing OK."

"Oh, just an occasional headache," Perry riposted. Really, there was something funny-peculiar about Clark, and Perry just couldn't resist needling him. At times.

Clark winced slightly.

"But I guess I have you to thank for the body work on my car," Perry continued.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"You might not have heard that I – and my car – were caught in a collapse of a condemned building a few weeks ago," Perry said. "I got a concussion, and I was afraid that my car got crushed. But when I got out of the hospital, it was waiting for me there, looking better than it did for about, oh, the last five years. And, since I don't think the Car Repair Fairy is making house calls, it must have been Clark. With the persistence borne of years of successful investigative reporting, I got him to admit it."

Chloe glared at Clark. "You could have told me!"

Clark skittered backwards a few steps. "You were busy."

Perry took pity on him. "What brings you here so early in the morning, Mr. Kent?"

Clark blinked, brought back to himself. "Oh, I brought Chloe a coffee." He handed her the insulated cup in his hand.

Chloe opened the lid and sniffed the rising stream. She took a sip. "Clark, you're forgiven."

"Gee, thanks." Clark gave her a shy smile.

Perry caught the gaze they shared. No doubt about it. They were smitten. Why else would he drive ninety minutes from Smallville to bring her a coffee? Why else would she look at him that way?

For once, the lovebirds didn't raise the usual gut ache in him. After weeks of pestering Alice, she'd finally let him have his say. Perry had used all his eloquence in apologizing. She still hadn't forgiven him, but at least they were talking now. Perry had come to realize, after he'd gotten sober, that Alice was the only woman for him. The suffering he'd put her through had only made her stronger. If he could only win Alice back….

"Well, you've got to get back to the cows, Clark," Chloe said, still looking at him.

"Oh, right," Clark said.

"Walk you to your truck, Clark?" Perry suggested.

Clark looked flustered. "Oh, it's parked a few blocks away….don't you have to get settled in here?"

Chloe chimed in. "Oh, yeah, Perry, I haven't shown you the fine array of vending machines - the sustenance for us basement workers - yet."

Perry nodded. The two were working a full-court press. They definitely didn't want him to go with Clark. "OK. Have a good time with the cows."

Clark and Chloe both grinned and Perry belatedly realized what he said could be misconstrued.

"Um…I mean, good luck on the farm today, Clark." A lame recovery.

"Sure. And good luck back at the _Planet,_" Clark said, gripping his hand. Perry watched the tall figure exit through the swinging doors.

"Vending machines? Is there coffee?" Perry said, interrupting Chloe's gaze at the departing friend.

"Yeah, just in the hall here…" he followed Chloe as she chattered on. Perry thought about two small things. One: he hadn't seen Clark enter through the swinging doors. But those doors were the only entrance open this time of day. It was like Clark had just appeared at Sullivan's desk. And secondly, the cup of coffee Clark had given to Chloe had come from the Smallville coffee house, the Talon. It said so, right on the coffee cup. And the coffee in the cup was still hot.

Perry sighed and added those two items to the mental file he was composing on Clark Kent.


	8. Step Six, Part Two

_Author's note: This section is set in the beginning of Season Seven of "Smallville", right after the first episode, "Bizarro". In this fic, Lana Lang really is killed in the car explosion in the episode "Phantom" at the end of Season Six of "Smallville." It's also an alternate take on Season Seven in terms of Grant Gabriel, Daily Planet editor, and his relationship with Lois Lane. The reference to Linda Lake's column and the love triangle is from the episode "Hydro". _

_**Several Months Later **_

Perry sat on his bed, reading his early morning meditation. He'd found that taking a few minutes at the beginning of the day helped keep him sober later on. The small blue book in his hand, "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" lay open to "Step Six."

_When men and women pour so much alcohol into themselves that they destroy their lives, they commit a most unnatural act. Defying their instinctive desire for self-preservation, they seem bent upon self-destruction. _

Perry snorted. He'd certainly been that way.

_As they are humbled by the terrific beating administered by alcohol, the grace of God can enter them and expel their obsession. Here their powerful instinct to live can cooperate fully with their Creator's desire to give them new life. For nature and God alike abhor suicide. _

Perry sat soberly, staring at nothing, as he considered how close he came.

_If we ask, God will certainly forgive our derelictions. But in no case does He render us white as snow and keep us that way without our cooperation. This is something we are supposed to be willing to work toward ourselves. He asks only that we try as best we know how to make progress in the building of character. _

He gave a short chuckle at the thought of 'building character.' He'd heard numerous people say that he _was _a character.

_So Step Six – 'Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character' – is A.A.'s way of stating the best possible attitude one can take in order to make a beginning on this lifetime job. This does not mean that we expect all our character defects to be lifted out of us as the drive to drink was. A few of them may be, but with most of them we shall have to be content with patient improvement. The key words 'entirely ready' underline the fact that we want to aim at the very best we know or can learn._

Perry sat quietly, considering the lesson. Then he got up, finished dressing, and headed to work.

He got to the _Planet, _scanned the room. Hmm…that was unusual. Chloe wasn't at her desk. Oh well. She'd been working a lot lately; maybe she'd taken a morning off. He checked the next desk over; Chloe's cousin Lois Lane hadn't shown up either.

Perry had mixed feelings about Lois. She really didn't belong at the _Planet_. She couldn't spell worth a darn, her grammar was shaky, and she had a penchant for chasing 'out-there' stories to the detriment of following through on hard news. Although, if Perry were to be honest, he himself had had his own "X-Styles" moments, and he knew that strange things _were _out there.

But what really frosted him about the Lois Lane situation wasn't Lois. It was the floor editor, Grant Gabriel, who Perry suspected – no, knew! – was putting the moves on Lois. Not only was Gabriel assigning Lois stories beyond her skill level (frankly, beyond what she'd earned), the editor also was trying to drive a wedge between Chloe Sullivan and Lois Lane, trying to set them up as competitors, and denigrating Chloe at every chance he got.

That made Perry mad. Firstly, Chloe Sullivan could out-report and out-investigate Lois any day of the week. He took this as a personal insult to his protégé. Secondly, and more importantly, Perry had nothing but scorn and disgust for a man who would use the authority of his position to influence a subordinate to sleep with him. Not only did it hurt the _Planet_ to have a less-capable writer submitting stories, it was a grave breach of professional and personal ethics.

The good thing about Lois was that she was using Grant Gabriel back in turn. Perry felt confident that Lois hadn't slept with the editor yet; she was probably just toying with him. She would come to Chloe for advice on the story, and Chloe usually would bring in Perry. As a result, Lois had become a second mentee, and Perry could see the improvement in her writing already. He didn't worry that Lois would succumb to Gabriel's smarmy tactics; Perry already realized that Lois was the type of person who could recognize a bull-sh!tter a mile away. And if Gabriel tried to push her….Perry figured Lois would kick him in the balls.

So Lois Lane hadn't asked for the awkward situation, but once in it she was making the most of it. Unfortunately, right now Chloe Sullivan was getting pounded. Perry urged her to persist, to work through the tough times. Lois too; she told Chloe all about Grant Gabriel's tricks. The solid relationship between the cousins held firm despite the editor's attempts to disrupt it.

And Perry used his own presence to influence the editor. Gabriel had never tried any crap with Perry; he knew Perry wouldn't stand for it. He knew Perry could fold him up, spread him on a cracker, and eat him for breakfast. So the two men had an armed truce. Grant Gabriel didn't bother Perry too much, and Perry remained professional at all times, turning in well-written stories on deadline.

Gabriel seemed oblivious to Perry's mentoring and teaching of the interns, young photographers and photojournalists, and cub reporters – something that the editor should really be doing on his own. (Another dereliction of responsibility, Perry thought.) Perry had a solid core of young "Planetoids" coming into shape now; Perry hoped that most of them would be able to move onto the upper floors; if not, after his training, they'd be able to find a job at any newspaper. Selfishly, Perry wanted to keep them for the _Planet. _

Grant Gabriel would get his comeuppance in time; Perry only hoped he was there to deliver it. Oh well, what would happen, would happen. Perry would just do what he could to influence it.

Perry dismissed the thought as he began checking his phone messages, looked up at the greeting from a colleague.

"Did you hear the news, Perry?" George Walker asked him. "You've been to Smallville, right?"

"What?" Perry asked.

"Where have you been?" Walker said. "Didn't you hear about Lex Luthor killing his wife?"

_"What?" _Perry asked. Without waiting for the other's reply, he raced upstairs to the newsroom. Special bulletins on the televisions confirmed George's news.

_Lex Luthor arrested for murder of wife….Mrs. Luthor blown up in apparent car bombing…Reeves Dam at Smallville bursts….Lionel Luthor missing, presumed dead in dam failure.…Engineers have no data as to why dam failed at this time….extent of property damage and lives lost is not yet known…_

"I've got to get to Smallville," Perry muttered. Fear coursed through him at the thought of Chloe Sullivan being caught in any of that. It surprised him, really. He hadn't thought he'd become this fond of Chloe. But in the few months they'd worked together, he'd come to realize how rare she was, how much she outshone the has-beens and never-will-be's that mostly populated the basement. There were a few interns who measured up to her. None exceeded her.

Without Perry realizing it, (_until now, _he thought) Chloe Sullivan had become his protégé, he her mentor. He was proud of her, he cheered her on, he stood in awe of her computer hacking skills. He liked how she came to him to ask advice on how to write the story, and later on, what to leave out of a story. He'd taken to introducing her to his contacts, and she hadn't let him down yet. If she'd been hurt, or even killed….Perry couldn't think of that.

He headed to Smallville, hearing bulletins on the radio as he drove through the Kansas countryside. Obviously, no one knew any more than what he'd first heard.

Perry spent the day interviewing local citizens, checking with the police, going out to view the devastation caused by the dam failure. The last surprised him – he expected floods to have washed away half the town. But the damage was confined to the first mile of river just below the dam.

The scattered boulders, shattered bridge girders, and surprisingly, one police car, testified mutely to the fury of the raging waters. But as Perry headed downstream, the damage ceased. On the upstream end of a river curve – devastation. On the downstream end – normal banks, no sign of flooding, no damage.

"How can this be?" Perry asked the air rhetorically. "It's a violation of all the laws of physics. It's like the water just evaporated into thin air or something!" Definitely an "X-Styles" moment. _Or a Smallvillian moment, _he thought.

Perry looked around and sighed. Nothing else to see here, nobody to talk to. Time to move on. He'd put in a good day's work and sent in several articles that would make the evening edition. He still hadn't found Chloe and no one seemed to know if she was involved. He'd contacted the _Planet _and she'd never shown up today.

Perry figured he'd go see if Clark Kent was home. They often saw each other, what with Clark's numerous visits to the _Planet _to see Chloe. And somehow, Perry had become a mentor for Clark, who was now taking a journalism class at Met U. Clark often stopped by, just in time to go to a Friendly Friday Group meeting with Perry. They'd stop for coffee afterwards, and Perry would read Clark's class articles and dissect them ruthlessly. Clark had (almost shyly) told him that Clark got more out of Perry's critiques than he did from the entire journalism class.

Perry thought about Clark as he drove the two-lane roads to the Kent Farm. He'd put it out of his mind all day, but now it exploded to the forefront of his attention. The dead wife of Lex Luthor was Clark's girlfriend. The first time Perry had been in Smallville, he'd met Lana Lang (as she was then) and found that out. Then there'd been the well-publicized "love triangle" reported in Linda Lake's column.

Perry didn't know why the two had broken up and why Lana Lang had married the bald billionaire. He figured the marriage had been really hard on Clark, given that was the time he'd found Clark going to Metropolis for a drug deal. The two of them never talked about that. Perry didn't need to investigate to see that Clark Kent still carried a torch for Lana Lang.

He pulled in the dusty lane for the Kent Farm. Strange; he hadn't been here since the abortive "X-Styles" investigation. He smiled a bit; that time, he'd been thrown off the farm. Perry parked the car, and knocked at the house front door.

No answer. Well, he considered himself Clark's friend; he was going to check things out. Besides, he'd often heard Chloe bemoaning how much Clark moped in the barn loft.

Perry trudged to the barn, entered through the unlocked door, and climbed the stairs. Clark sat at the window, watching the setting sun. He turned to Perry; Perry gasped at the momentary expression of loss and pain that crossed Clark's face. Then Clark smoothed his features into stony quiet.

"Clark," Perry said quietly.

"Perry," the young man replied. He paused a moment, then said bitterly, "If you're here to interview "the boyfriend in the Lex Luthor love triangle" for the _Daily Planet_, you should know that I've already kicked five paparazzi off the farm."

Perry didn't respond to this attack. Instead, he advanced to Clark and put his hand gently on Clark's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Clark," he said quietly.

Clark nodded. He looked away. Perry saw his tears reflecting in the setting sunlight. "If I'd been there for her…" his words ended in choking sobs. He seemed undone by Perry's gesture of sympathy, his defenses breached. Perry sat next to him on the battered couch, keeping his arm over Clark's shoulders as the younger man wept.

"Come on, let's get some coffee," Perry said gently. Numbly, Clark stood up and followed him back to the house. Perry stepped through the unlocked back door into the kitchen. The sunshiny interior mocked Clark's sad mood. _It should be clouds and rain, _Perry thought.

He sat Clark down at the sturdy kitchen table, and fumbled around the kitchen for a few minutes until he found coffee and filters. The reporter poured extra into the coffeemaker to make a strong brew. The two men waited in silence as the steady drip filled the coffeepot.

"I'm sorry, Clark," Perry said again, putting a full cup in front of the younger man. He seated himself, holding his own steaming mug.

Clark stared at the kitchen table. He seemed disinclined to talk. Perry sat quietly, allowing him his silence.

The door slammed. Both men looked up in surprise.

"Chloe!" Perry exclaimed. "You're OK!"

"Perry?" she replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to check on Clark," Perry said. He took a closer look at Chloe. "Are _you _OK?" Her bedraggled appearance, so unlike her usual well-groomed look, made him blurt out, "You look like death warmed over."

She winced.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Perry apologized. God, he'd put his foot in his mouth there. "That was uncalled for."

"No offense, Perry," Chloe said wearily, advancing to the coffeepot. "I couldn't sleep." She poured herself a large mug and sat next to Clark at the kitchen table. He reached out and took her hand; she squeezed his hand back.

The silence lingered. Perry had never seen Chloe and Clark so dispirited.

"What are you going to do next?" Perry asked the two. Chloe startled.

"Well, I hadn't really thought about it…" Clark mumbled.

Perry straightened his shoulders. "You're going to work, Clark." He caught the younger man's gaze, then stared straight at Chloe. "And you, too, Chloe."

The two looked back in surprise, like deer caught in the headlights.

"I've been in situations like this before. And you can either sit around obsessing about it, reliving it, and thinking about it. Or you can move on." Perry's voice took on a gentler tone. "I know this is a hard time. But when there's nothing else to do, you work."

Chloe lifted her eyebrows.

"Get the story. Chloe, you've told me you've been working on a Luthorcorp angle – what can you write about this? And Clark, you probably won't want to work on the, um, Lana Lang murder story, but the _Planet _needs coverage on the dam break! What's the town going to do? Why isn't there more damage?" Perry got up and started pacing. "What about the hydroelectric loss? What's that going to do for local power bills? What's the power company going to do about repair?"

Clark and Chloe looked at each other. Perry could tell it was a "just humor him" kind of look. But if it got them off their asses, he didn't care.

"I know this sounds corny, you two," Perry said. "But you take it one day at a time. And you work." He thought of his old grandmother and her oft-repeated maxim. "Work will be your salvation."

He grinned at the look they shared. "Just take it one day at a time."


	9. Step Seven, Part One

_Author's note: The reference to Linda Lake's column and the love triangle is from the episode "Hydro". There's also an alternate take on Season Seven in terms of Grant Gabriel, Daily Planet editor, and his relationship with Lois Lane. The reference to Chloe's safe house blowing up was from the last episode of Season Three of "Smallville", "Covenant". The reference to Lex Luthor and torture, illegal cloning, crimes against humanity, etc., are from the numerous episodes featuring meteor freaks imprisoned in the 33.1 labs and Lex's experiments on them. _

_**Step Seven: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. **_

_Six Months Later_

"Hey, Sullivan!" Perry said across the newsroom. "What've you got?"

"Hey, White!" Chloe said back, smiling. "You're not going to believe what you see here!" Then a dark expression crossed her eyes and she lost her smile. Perry saw her vivacity dim. _Damn them, _he thought. In that moment he made his decision.

Perry leaned close in and whispered. "Chloe, I have to talk to you. Can we go for coffee at lunchtime?"

He held her gaze. "OK," she said slowly.

* * *

They sat down in a small diner, a few blocks farther from the _Daily Planet _building than their usual haunts.

"What is it, Perry?" Chloe asked him. She knew him. This was unusual.

Perry sighed. "Chloe, it's dangerous to talk about this, but I figure you ought to know."

"What?"

"Chloe, you've been working on a Luthorcorp expose, haven't you?" Perry asked. "And you've been keeping it pretty confidential?"

"Well, I hoped so," Chloe replied. "You knew about it because of our lunch meetings, but I haven't been telling anyone else at the _Planet _about it."

"Well, you must be on to something hot," Perry said. He sighed. "And somehow, the fact that you're investigating has leaked out." This was going to hurt. "Chloe, I've got a lifetime of sources."

"Yeah, I know that, Perry," she said.

"More than you do, right now," he said. "Oh, I know you're working up your networks, and you're doing pretty good. But I did hear something that you probably haven't."

She leaned forward. "What?"

Time to tell her now. "Chloe, I've heard…rumors…that your recent car accident was anything but."

Chloe drew in her breath sharply.

"What I've heard – and there's no proof, no proof whatsoever – is that Luthorcorp put a hit on you and said to make it look like an accident."

She froze.

Perry nodded.

"If it hadn't been for Clark…" Chloe said in a whisper.

"Clark?" Perry asked curiously. "I didn't know he was there."

"Um, if it hadn't been for Clark's lessons in defensive driving, I mean," said Chloe awkwardly.

"Well, it's a good thing you had those lessons," Perry said. "It was only by the grace of God that your car didn't tumble off the embankment. I saw the accident report. Chloe, it's a miracle."

"I know," she said softly.

Perry caught her attention again. "Lex Luthor knows you're getting too close. This is a warning. And a punishment. I can't prove it, but you and I know it's true."

Her face twisted, and she put her head in her hands. After a minute, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head.

"I'm not going to stop," Chloe whispered intently. "I'm going to bring Lex Luthor down."

"Yeah, and get killed doing it!" Perry said. He caught her wrist, keeping her from storming out. "Chloe, sit down." She sat.

"I want to see Lex Luthor go down as much as you do," Perry said. "I know what kind of guy he is." He smiled bitterly. "I've seen him up close and personal, too." He spoke sincerely. "But, Chloe, I don't want to see you get hurt. You're too good a reporter. And too good a person."

"So what are you saying?" Chloe challenged him.

"Chloe, I've got a plan. But it's going to depend on some other people besides us. We need to get Clark Kent and Lois Lane on board."

"I think we probably could," Chloe said.

"And we need to meet somewhere far away from here, somewhere where there aren't any video cameras or bugs," Perry continued.

Chloe wrinkled her brow. "I think we could meet at the Kent Farm – I'll ask Clark, but I'm sure he'll say yes. He checks every day for surveillance devices."

Perry raised an eyebrow questioningly."

"It all started after that Linda Lake gossip column where he was outed as the third figure in the Lex-Lana-Clark love triangle," Chloe explained. "Ever since then, he's been paranoid about being spied on."

"Good survival skills when dealing with the Luthors," Perry muttered. More loudly, he said, "And I want you to hack into your _Planet _personnel file. But don't do it at the _Planet. _Be somewhere safe when you do."

"I hacked into it a few years ago," Chloe said curiously. "Why do you want me to recheck it?"

"Just do," Perry said. "I'll explain. Can you get Clark and Lois to meet us at the Kent Farm two nights from now?"

"I'll run it by them, but if you think it's important, I'm sure they'll meet us there," Chloe said.

"It's important, Chloe," Perry said. He took a sip of coffee. "We've got to get back now." He put a few bills on the table for their waitress. "Don't touch the Luthorcorp story for the next few days, Chloe, and keep a low profile."

* * *

Perry pulled up to the Kent Farm. The setting sun cast its rays through the dust of the farmyard, illuminating the yellow house with a welcoming glow. He saw three other vehicles in the drive; it figured that he himself was late. Lately he'd been taking on more and more responsibility at the _Planet. _

Clark opened the door and beckoned Perry in. Perry couldn't help but smile. Every time he came to the Kent Farm, he contrasted his welcome reception now with the original brush-off he'd gotten when he was working for _X-Styles._

They gathered around the kitchen table. Clark and Chloe sat next to each other, concerned looks on their faces. Lois sat across from them, and Perry sat on the end, unconsciously dominating the discussion. Perry took a deep sip of coffee and drew in a breath.

"I supposed you're wondering why we're all here today," he started. Without waiting for an answer, he asked Clark, "You're sure there aren't any cameras or bugs around?"

Lois raised her eyebrows. She looked even more surprised at Clark's reply and his uncharacteristically serious expression.

"It all checks out clean, Perry."

OK. Time to go ahead.

"I've been working with you three for months now. You've all impressed me. Now I have to ask us all to pull together."

Curious glances.

"Chloe, here, is in a spot. I have to swear you to secrecy on what I'm about to say."

Even more curious looks, but Clark and Lois murmured their agreement.

Perry continued. "Chloe is working on an expose of Lex Luthor and Luthorcorp. She's told me a little bit about it and it's hot. This is the story that will put Lex Luthor in prison. Unlawful imprisonment, torture, illegal cloning, crimes against humanity – this is big."

Clark only nodded. Perry wasn't surprised to find that he already knew about it. Lois looked surprised. In what Perry had no doubt was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, she said only one word.

"And?"

"And somehow Chloe has tripped some alarms. I've been up against the Luthors before. They're ruthless. Chloe, you know that."

Chloe nodded.

"I'm not likely to forget that it was your testimony that convicted Lionel Luthor of murder," Perry said. "Not when that was what got me my Pulitzer. But, Lois, you may remember that Chloe's safe house was blown up."

"I thought you were dead, then," Lois murmured to Chloe. "That was one of the worst times in my life."

"It wasn't so fun for me either," Chloe retorted.

Perry interrupted. "And, yesterday, Chloe had a car accident."

Clark stirred. "I don't think it was entirely accidental."

"I don't either," Perry said. For a moment, he wondered about her statement – _If it hadn't been for Clark. _Clark had been Johnny on the spot in all the police reports in the past. What he if had been there again? How could he have gotten to a car traveling over seventy miles per hour? _Not important right now_, Perry thought. "I think her life is in danger – again. It's just that Lex Luthor is a little more subtle than his father."

Identical expressions of anger on the faces of Lois and Clark. Obviously they believed him. Why not? They'd each dealt with Lex before. Perry held their gazes for a moment before going on.

"Here's where I ask for your help," Perry said to Lois and Clark. He changed the subject and asked Chloe, "Did you hack into your _Planet _personnel file?"

"Yep," she said.

"And did you see the bit about promoting you?"

"I'm not sure," Chloe replied.

"The part where it says, when someone wants to promote you, to talk with Henry Manush in Human Resources?"

"I got that. I don't know what it meant," Chloe said. "But you're going to tell me?"

"Manush is the Luthorcorp mole at the DP," Perry said bluntly. "I've been checking around. Chloe, haven't you wondered why you're still in the basement, five years after you started at the _Planet?"_

"Well, I was getting a little discouraged…"

"What I've managed to find out, Chloe, is that you've been up for promotion every year. Heck, you were up after six months. But when word gets to Manush, he notifies someone, and the suits upstairs put the kibosh on your advancement."

Perry noticed that Chloe nodded bitterly, Clark looked enlightened – and angry. Lois breathed fire. Before any of them could say anything, Perry went on.

"They haven't been able to fire you. The editors in the basement, the people that really work there, know how good you are. Somehow, the thought of losing a quality person who actually gets things done, makes an editor testy." Perry took another sip of coffee. "So it's a balancing act. The suits upstairs, under Luthorcorp pressure, are trying to make you resign. The editors fight it. And you stay in the basement."

Chloe nodded again. Clark reached out and took her hand.

"OK, now it's time for me to go on a tangent," Perry said. "I don't know if you heard that I'm going to be assistant editor."

"Yeah, that's the scuttlebutt on the floor," Lois said. "No secret there, Perry. You're the obvious candidate."

"Ever since Grant Gabriel left…" Clark trailed off.

"Hey, thanks for kicking him in the balls, Lois," Perry said.

She blushed. "I didn't think anyone knew about that."

"I've got my sources," Perry said archly, softening the blow by giving her a big grin.

"He probably deserved it," Clark rumbled. Perry knew that Clark had met Grant and didn't care for him.

"Anyway," Perry said, cutting off Lois' reply, "it's time for the _Planet _to get back to the practices that made it famous. Thorough stories. Good reporting. Deep investigations. Hard news, backed up with facts. None of this crap that gets us sued for libel."

"Another legacy of the esteemed Mr. Gabriel," Chloe said. She'd been sitting quietly in her chair till now, apparently stunned, hardly even sipping her coffee.

"Well, things are going to change," Perry said. "And I want some good people there." He got up and refilled his coffee cup, and cast a questioning look at the others to see if they wanted their mugs topped off too.

He sat down and asked, apparently out of nowhere, "Did you ever read any of the _Hornblower _series by C.S. Forester?"

Clark and Chloe nodded.

"And maybe you remember the one where Hornblower is on the Channel Fleet blockading the French and the admiral of the fleet is retiring?"

"It was 'Hornblower and the Hotspur', Clark said. "Admiral Cornwallis."

"Only you would remember that, Smallville," Lois said, in exasperated affection. "Geek!"

"Hey, they were good books!" Clark defended himself. "I read them more than once!"

"Ahem. If we are done casting aspersions…" Perry said. Clark and Lois stopped their half-hearted sniping.

"Clark, you probably remember, then, that the Admiral got three promotions when he was leaving the navy."

"Midshipman to lieutenant. Lieutenant to commander. Commander to captain," Clark recited.

Perry caught Lois' whispered "geek" again, but ignored it. "And though I'm hardly an admiral in the British Navy, I do manage to have some influence on personnel." A serious tone entered his voice. "Here's the plan. Listen to it all and then tell me if you can do it."

The three younger members looked at him curiously.

"Clark, I can get you into the _Planet _as a junior reporter right away. You've got the degree, you've got the experience, and the paper has bought some of your free-lance work already." Perry drank some coffee. "I've been working with you long enough –"

"You've been editing me already, Perry," Clark said affectionately.

"- that I know you can handle the work. It'll be a full-time job. The pay isn't great to start, but you'll move up soon. It'll probably mean that you won't be able to run the farm anymore, though. Do you want to come to the _Planet_?"

Clark gave him a steady look. "More than anything, Perry." He squeezed Chloe's hand. "I've been thinking about leasing out the farm anyway." A wealth of untold words in that phrase. Oh well, Perry would ask him about it after one of their Friendly Friday meetings soon.

"OK, then," Perry said. "Chloe, Lois, your situation is more complex." He sighed. "Lois, you've got talent. And you've got connections. You've been Mrs. Kent's campaign manager and senatorial aide – you know people in Topeka and Washington."

Lois nodded.

"And you're a former army brat - no secret there. So the military world is open to you too."

Lois nodded again.

"And you've hung out with Oliver Queen, billionaire," Perry said. "So you know a bunch of people in high society too."

"Don't forget working in the Talon as a coffee waitress," Clark needled. "She got to know a lot of Smallville society there."

Lois stuck her tongue out at him. Clark grinned back.

"And you're good at getting people to talk to you," Perry went on. Lois smiled. "But not so good at fact-checking," Perry said. The smile left Lois' face.

Perry turned to Chloe. "And you're a great investigative reporter. You fact-check. You document. You have proof for what you write. And you can write."

"Where are you going with this, Perry?" Chloe demanded.

"Chloe Sullivan has no future at the _Daily Planet_", Perry said, hating the way Chloe's face fell. "She's blacklisted, doesn't have a hope of promotion, and now there's a death threat out for her."

Chloe looked down into her coffee.

"But Perry White, assistant editor-to-be, can hire Cat Grant, a society columnist, formerly known as Lois Lane." Chloe lifted her head. "And Perry White can move Lois Lane, formerly known as Chloe Sullivan, up from the basement." He saw hope bloom in Chloe's eyes. "And Chloe Sullivan will resign from the _Planet _and move to Coast City, and won't be writing that Luthorcorp story anymore. She'll be out of town and off their radar."

"What are you saying, Perry?" Clark asked.

"It's simple, Clark," Perry replied. "Well, maybe not. There's an opening for a society columnist. Cat Grant is a pseudonym that the _Planet _uses for that column. Lois was made for that position. Chloe moves up from the basement, and you move in as a new hire."

"If you're thinking this will dissuade Luthorcorp and its minions, you're mistaken," Chloe said.

"Am I?" Perry retorted. "Let's think about it here. Firstly, Lex Luthor isn't spending much time in Smallville or Metropolis these days. He's off in Washington a lot, or gallivanting around to the worldwide Luthorcorp facilities. He'll get a report that Chloe Sullivan resigned from the _Planet _and gave up the story. He's a busy man. That's all he cares about. He'll let things drop."

"He probably would, Chloe," Clark said. "He's an efficient kind of guy. Why kill you when he can just scare you off?" A bitter tone in Clark's voice.

"And his minion at the _Planet_?" Chloe asked.

"Strangely enough, Mr. Manush will be transferred to Gotham City right before your promotions," Perry said. "Lex Luthor isn't the only one who can use his influence under the table."

"One hire, two promotions, and one transfer, Mr. Admiral?" Lois asked.

"Like I said, I'm not in the British Navy, but I can do something," Perry smiled.

"But come on! Everyone in the _Planet _knows who I am already!" Chloe said. "And that's not even counting Lois! What if she doesn't want to be Cat Grant?"

Everyone turned to Lois. "You know, coz," Lois said, "when Perry proposed this, I thought he was crazy. But now it's making sense. You know, and I know, that I'd be better at the gossip column – "

"The _society _column, please," Perry interjected, mock-sternly.

" - than doing the kind of reporting that you do. I can't live up to the standard you set there – nobody can." Lois had a momentary serious expression. "But I _can_ do a good job in Section B." She sat straighter. "And I don't want to lose you, Chloe." Desolation tinged her voice. "I thought I lost you a few years ago in the safe-house explosion. I can't bear to have something happen to you again. If this helps keep you safe, I'm all for it."

Chloe's vision blurred with tears. She was lucky and she knew it, to have such a loyal cousin and friend.

"Besides," Lois continued, "if it gets Smallville here hired in at the _Planet_…well, _he_ can start putting the stuff in that leads to libel suits."

She and Clark exchanged insincere smiles.

"And Smallville will be working with you! How much better could it be?" Lois finished sarcastically.

"Actually, if we do this, Chloe, you'd be on the top floors and Clark would be in the basement," Perry cautioned.

"For now," Chloe said defiantly. "You know and I know that Clark is a good writer and he'll be on the upper floors in no time at all."

"Thanks, Chlo," Clark muttered.

"But that still doesn't explain why you think I can get away with it!" Chloe said. "It's not like people at the _Planet _don't know who I am!"

"Well…" Perry said. "It's like this. Let me run it by you and you tell me what you think. Really, a lot of people at the _Planet _really _don't _know who you are."

Chloe raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, everyone in the basement knows you well, Chloe. But come June 30, the usual turnover is going to happen. We'll get in the usual crowd of interns from Met U and other places, and a lot of the current basement inhabitants will be moving on to other jobs, or getting fired, or they'll realize that their six months or a year as a reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper isn't really what they want. So that's a large group right there taken care of."

"OK," Chloe said.

"And the upstairs people – Chloe, I don't know if you know how distant they are from the basement. Most of the group up there just lumps the basement folk in as this-year's crowd of newbies. Speaking from experience, after a few years, the cub reporters all just blend together," Perry said. "Unless, unless they're really good. Like you."

"Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess," Chloe said.

"And, Chloe," Perry continued, "people do know that there's some sort of black mark against you. They don't know it's not your fault, that you're on the Luthorcorp blacklist and that the Luthors use their influence with the board to make sure you're not promoted. All that most people have heard is that you've been pounded with some sort of sh!t stick. And most people don't want the sh!t to get on them. So if they hear that Chloe Sullivan resigned, they'll put you out of their minds."

Clark stirred restlessly in his seat. He took Chloe's hand again, squeezed it as she paled.

Perry went on. "So, Chloe, you'd be surprised at how little the people in the upper floors actually know about you. They know your work, sure. But very few of them have actually seen you."

"And?" Clark asked this time.

"So, Clark, if Chloe dyes her hair brunette, if she takes over Lois' name, and if the Luthorcorp spy gets transferred, we've got a pretty good chance of pulling this off."

Lois, Chloe, and Clark said nothing, stunned.

"Of course, this is the hard part. You girls – excuse me, you ladies – will have to give up your identities. If Chloe becomes Lois, then Lois, you can't keep that identity. You have to be Cat Grant," Perry said firmly.

"But isn't the Cat Grant name copyrighted to the _Planet_ or something?" Chloe asked.

"No, surprisingly enough, it isn't," Perry said. "If Lois wants to, she can take over that name."

The two cousins stared at each other. "It's a hard thing," Chloe murmured.

Clark turned to look at Chloe. "I don't want to influence your decision, Chloe," he said.

Lois sneered.

"All right, I do." Clark clasped her hand again. "I think you should think about it. I know it's not me who has to give up his identity. In fact, I'm the one making out the best on this deal." He looked at Perry before returning his glance to Chloe. "But I've known Perry for quite some time now, and he'll tell it like it is. The stuff about you being blacklisted – that explains it." Clark leaned over to Chloe and gave her a quick, abashed hug. "And if there's a death threat out on you….I'm not surprised." Lowering his voice so Perry could barely hear him, Clark said to Chloe, "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"We'd have to get our names changed somewhere," Chloe said weakly, and Perry knew he'd won.

"Judge Ross," Clark instantly said. "We can go to Wichita and tell her about it. She'll keep things confidential." He cast Lois a significant glance and she nodded in agreement.

"So…" Chloe said. Then, stronger, she said, "So. That's how it's going to be." She sat back in her chair.

Perry looked at Lois, Clark and Chloe. "Are we in agreement?" Everyone nodded.

Perry stood up, raised his coffee mug. A glance around, and everyone else raised theirs as well. Perry made a toast, knowing, with these reporters in his future, he was at an historic beginning. "I give you… Clark Kent, cub reporter. Cat Grant, society columnist. And Lois Lane, investigative reporter for the _Daily Planet_!"


	10. Step Seven, Part Two

It all went just as Perry said. In fact, it went so smoothly that Perry, always expecting Murphy's Law to manifest, was almost disgruntled. A few reporters knew Chloe as "Chloe Sullivan", but when Perry and everyone else referred to her as "Lois Lane", they fell into line, not really caring. And most of the people on the floor hadn't really known her – the Luthor blacklist had made her enough of a pariah that she'd been pretty much isolated.

So Perry found himself ensconced at a bigger desk, slightly away from the crowded bullpen. He looked up and saw Chloe – no, **Lois** – arranging her stuff on her own new desk. He smiled as he saw the yellow and red "Smallville Crows" coffee cup – she'd had that for years. Then he frowned – Lois would have to retire that cup. Lois Lane hadn't spent her teen years in Smallville. He made a mental note to tell Sullivan – no, **Lane** – _gotta get that straight, Perry_ – and then turned his attention back to his own problems.

It wasn't till later that afternoon that Perry found out a very interesting characteristic of his new position. Not his editorial job position; no, his literal position in the newsroom. Due to some acoustical quirk, Perry could hear conversations from the area around Lois' desk and the coffee station nearby. The ornate plaster walls and architectural detail somehow tended to focus sound and bounce it across the room, right to Perry's desk.

Perry wondered if that was why this spot was traditionally given to the assistant editor – certainly he couldn't have been the first to notice this acoustical anomaly. Maybe that was one of the ways the assistant editor kept tabs on his reporters – Perry had wondered himself at times if his old editor at the _Planet _was psychic. The secret explained at last!

The first time distracted him. Gil came up to get coffee and made some desultory conversation with the new Lois (who tended to be at the coffeepot two standard deviations past the norm of the other reporters), greeting her and giving her a tepid welcome to the _Planet. _Perry looked up as he heard Gil's greeting; it sounded as if the other man was right next to Perry's desk. It took Perry awhile to figure it out. That whole day, Perry kept on lifting his head, looking for the nonexistent reporter standing next to him, then realizing that said reporter was across the room. It played hell with his editing; he couldn't keep his concentration.

After a few days he got used to it. It didn't take long to tell the difference between voices really at his desk, talking to him, and voices talking to others at the coffee station, transmitted to Perry by the acoustical quirk. Perry kept quiet when the other area was busy, not sure if the sound connection worked both ways, but not wanting to tip anyone off if it did. If he had to talk with someone, he moved away from his desk and into a conference room, or he headed over to that reporter's desk.

Perry raised his eyebrows at some of the conversations he overheard. He learned a lot about popular TV shows, what had happened on a recent episode. He heard a lot of small talk about the weather and the traffic. Those were OK; it was the single-sex conversations – the giggling and gossip between some female reporters, and the boasting and posturing of the males, that sometimes was just too much information. Perry thought about telling about the acoustical anomaly, or moving his desk to a different area…._nah._ Curiosity had always been his besetting sin.

After a while, he got to know his reporters better than they even knew. Hearing about their kids in school, their parents' illnesses, their grumbling about their assignments…all the small talk one would make at the water cooler or coffee station that the boss wouldn't always hear.

Perry didn't look up as Clark came to visit Lois. He tended to visit the upper floor at least once a day, sometimes more. He and Lois would give each other a smile, sometimes an arm-clasp or a (very brief and guarded) hug. They'd stay a short time at the coffee station, or at Lois' desk, talking about what each was working on. Perry took his attention away from the insipid copy he was editing when he heard a different tone in Clark's voice.

"I started my training again, Chloe," Clark said.

_Training? What's that?_ Perry thought. _Didn't Clark go through the Planet orientation with all the other newbies? _

"First, Clark, it's Lois. I'm _Lois Lane. _Get that straight. We've got to stay in character," Lois chided him. Then, more eagerly, she said, "How's it going?"

"It's pretty fun now," Clark said. Perry couldn't understand the next word – it sounded like "Jorl". He tuned back in to hear Clark saying, "— had some things to say about my home – about where I was born. The history and all that." Clark had lowered his voice and was leaning closer in to Lois.

"He's OK with you working at the _Planet_?" Lois said, also softly.

"I didn't give him a choice," Clark replied. "I just told him this is what I was doing." He chuckled. "Jorl just told me to be there frequently."

"Well, I guess it's good to learn about your heritage," Lois murmured. Perry could barely hear her. "Are you going to learn more about, you know, the other stuff?"

_What other stuff?_ Perry thought. He almost missed Clark's reply.

"Jorl says that's coming later on."

Ralph from Lifestyle came to refill his cup, and Clark and Lois parted. Perry scratched his head. This conversation didn't fit the usual mold. He decided to keep a closer ear for any more Clark – Lois conversations.

Over the next months, Perry heard a lot. And it bothered him. Things just weren't quite right. He got that hinky feeling again. Curiosity itched, and he couldn't scratch it.

Perry decided to keep a file. Oh, there were many days when Clark and Lois discussed only their stories - the Luthorcorp story seemed to be stalled, just now – but every once in a while Clark would get that subtle difference of tone in his voice that Perry had learned to be alert for. But what did it mean? Whatever Clark's "training" was, what did all those statements have in common?

"Today I learned seven different ways of _looking_ at things."

"We worked on breath control, Lois."

"What'd you do this time, Clark?" "Weight lifting."

"I never knew there was so much to just _listening_ before."

Perry considered all these, turned them over in his mind, put them in his file. As time passed, Clark seemed to be coming to end of his training, whatever that was. And the conversations between him and Lois took an interesting turn. As the months passed, Clark seemed to be, well, not distraught, actually, more like unsettled. Something bothered him and he and Lois spent quite a deal of time in unproductive ruminating.

One day, Perry heard Lois with that tone in her voice when she met Clark at the coffee station. He looked across the room to see her with a broad smile on her face. He quieted down and eavesdropped with all his might.

"Clark, what do these guys have in common? Zorro, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and Clark Kent?"

"Nothing," Perry heard Clark say glumly.

"What about this?" Lois replied. "Don Diego de la Vega, Sir Percy Blakeney, and Clark Kent?"

A short silence. Perry caught a questioning note in Clark's voice. "You don't think?"

Perry risked a glance up and saw Lois nodding. "I think it's an idea we should consider," she said cheerfully. "It's in the best literary tradition, after all." Perry's head movement must have caught Lois' attention; she met Perry's eyes. He waved an offhand greeting to her, and returned his attention to his desktop. Lois looked back at Clark and said, "Talk more about this later, Clark?"

"Uh-huh," Clark replied.

_Well, that was interesting, _Perry thought. Was Clark thinking of dressing up like some sort of literary hero with a secret identity? Planning some sort of undercover persona? Certainly he'd brought in enough stories from enough dangerous people and dangerous areas that he could use some sort of cover. But, if he were, why not come to Perry? They discussed journalism stuff like this all the time.

Then Todd from Lifestyle came to Perry with a question, and the minor irritant of what Clark and Lois were up to fell to the side, buried under the minutia of the day.

A few weeks later, Perry caught another frustrating snippet of conversation in _that _tone.

"What about black?" Clark said.

"Only the bad guys wear black," Lois said dismissively.

"It's slimming," Clark argued weakly, like he was repeating advice from a gossip magazine or something.

"Like you need it," Lois retorted. "No, I'm thinking primary colors. Garish. Bright. Attention-grabbing." Perry caught her scanning Clark's red-and-blue tie with a scornful eye. "No guesses as to your favorite colors."

Clark laughed a bit, nodded in agreement. The two moved away from the coffeepot, smiling at each other. Perry caught just a bit more.

"You're sure about no mask?" Lois said.

Whatever Clark said, Perry didn't get it. Perry found himself obsessively entering the latest conversation in his file on Clark. Then Perry found himself wanting a drink. He fought down the urge; he'd had lots of practice in that.

A few weeks later Perry saw Clark coming in to meet Lois at their usual spot. Perry hurried to seat himself at his desk. He felt a small tinge of uneasiness that he was actively seeking to eavesdrop now. He wasn't just taking advantage of an anomaly anymore. _You should really just ask Clark what this is all about, _he told himself. It wasn't like they didn't talk. They had the usual business-related chatter, of course. But Clark also attended Friendly Friday meetings with Perry about once a month, and they'd often go out for coffee afterwards, and talk there.

But Perry was ashamed that he was keeping this secret from Clark and Lois. At first, he thought nothing of it. But now, he'd been hearing talk about their private life for months. It really was none of his business. It would be extremely embarrassing to confess to them he'd been eavesdropping that long.

This time Clark met Lois at the coffee station, beating her to their rendezvous. He seemed elated, thought Perry. Perry hoped he'd hear what they said – it was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He was curious.

"Lois, I finally got it!" Clark said.

"What?" Lois asked.

"You know," Clark said frustratingly. He made a gesture with his right hand that Perry couldn't really see. Whatever it was that Clark had mastered, he was being irritatingly circumspect.

"Really?" Lois asked excitedly.

"Really," Clark said, pride in his tone.

"Can you take me with you? Take me? Soon?" Lois asked eagerly.

"It took me some time, but I've got it mastered now, Lois," Clark said. "You can go with me and be safe now." For some reason Perry didn't understand, Clark looked up at the ceiling.

"Tonight?" Lois asked. Perry hadn't heard that much anticipation in a voice since his kid waited in line for the rollercoaster.

"Yep," Clark said. "Dress warmly and wear dark clothes."

_Well, that was interesting….again, _Perry thought. _What's it all about? _He

carefully documented the conversation in his file. And once again, he found

himself wanting a drink. He pulled out his copy of the Big Book and read a few

chapters. Then he pulled out his directory and turned to meetings that day.

_Better go to a meeting tonight, _he thought.

The next day, Perry didn't even have to go to his desk when Clark and

Lois met; he was already there, curiosity piqued.

Lois sparkled. That's all Perry could call it. Something had happened last night, and she was euphoric. Perry could feel the wattage of her smile across the room. Clark seemed happy, too.

"Clark Kent, you are a man of many talents," Lois said appreciatively. She caught sight of Gil from Finance approaching the coffeepot.

_Darn, _thought Perry. That was going to cut off whatever Lois was going on about.

"Next time, we try it with the new Suit," Lois said. Perry could almost hear the capitalization. She gave Clark a light peck on the cheek and went back to her desk, still smiling.


	11. Step Seven, Part Three

Perry hung up his phone, unable to stop the wide grin. _Yes! _He thought. He looked over – Lois and Clark were at her desk, about to go get coffee. Perry headed over to them. This he wanted them to hear first.

"Hey you two," Perry started.

"You got the editor-in-chief job," Lois said.

Perry's jaw dropped. "How'd you know?" Clark was startled too, Perry noticed.

"Oh, come on, Perry, it's obvious. A new EIC is needed, you're the obvious candidate, and you've got a grin like I've never seen on you before." Lois picked up her mug. "Come on, let's get some coffee."

"Lois, you're a better investigative reporter than I thought," Perry said. "I don't think anyone else has figured it out yet."

"Thanks, Perry," she said shyly. Lois was like that, Perry thought. Tough as nails, a fighter through and through. But give her a compliment and it hit her under her defenses.

"Congratulations, Perry," Clark said, offering his hand. Perry shook it. "You deserve it. You've taught me so much….I know that the _Planet _will be better with you in charge of it.

And that was like Clark, Perry thought. He could make comments that would sound like crass flattery from another, but from him were just sincere truths. One didn't think to doubt a Clark pronouncement; one just took it at face value, as Clark so obviously intended.

"Well, so much for my big announcement," Perry said, mock-ruefully. "I wanted to tell you two first. Just as my two best reporters, you know," he said playfully. "Once I'm editor-in-chief, I won't be able to display such blatant favoritism."

"Uh-huh," Lois said, smiling.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" Perry said. "You'll still be my favorites. Because you two earn it." He hoped Lois and Clark picked up the steady gaze and the sincerity in his voice. "You've come up with some great stories already, even as new as you are."

Lois asked, "When do you start?"

"The official announcement goes out at the end of this week, and I take over in three months. There's a one-month transition period where I'll be in the office with Dale, and he'll be supposedly showing me the ropes."

"You need the ropes shown to you?" Lois asked incredulously.

"Not really, but it looks good on paper," Perry laughed. "I think it's really just a ploy to ease me in and grease the skids on any remaining hard feelings from my previous tenure here."

Lois said, "Three months, eh?" She looked at Clark. He gave a slight nod.

"Perry?" she asked.

"What?"

"Clark and I are working on a story. We can't say anything about it right now, but I think we'll probably have something big for you right about the time you take over as editor-in-chief."

Perry gazed quizzically at the two of them. Interesting that Lois felt confident enough to half-promise something big. She'd never let him down before. He debated asking her what it was about. Then he decided not to bother; Lois never revealed anything before she was ready. What really caught Perry's attention was the time. Lois had predicted big stories before; she'd always delivered on them, but she'd never given such a specific date.

"Well, that's nice to hear," Perry said. "It'll be good to get something big right when I start."

"Oh, it'll be big, Perry," Lois said confidently. Again, Perry caught the slight glance and nod exchanged between her and Clark.

"I think you'll be impressed," Clark added.

* * *

Nothing came of the next few days. Perry found he could detect when Clark and Lois were going to discuss their private business, whatever it was they talked about so obliquely. It was a matter of picking up a certain tension in their postures, a certain tone in their voice. Then they'd discuss it over coffee and they'd both look relieved. So Perry found himself placed for overhearing once again today.

Clark started the conversation for once. "Chloe, it's not decent!"

"Oh, I kind of liked it," Lois said. Perry caught her running her tongue over her lips. "And call me Lois, remember?"

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "I'm a little overwrought here, _Lois._"

"Well, it's got to be tight, you know that, Clark," Lois said in a pedantic, but somehow devilish voice.

"Not tight enough to outline my…to show off my…"

"Your package?" Lois asked sweetly.

Clark sputtered. That was what Perry had to call it – sputtering.

Then Lois got a businesslike tone. "You're right, Clark." She grinned again. "Although, if we keep it the way it is, no one will be looking at your face."

"Lois!"

"Oh, all right, Clark," she soothed him. "The blue line needs breaking up anyway. How about the red?"

"I like the green," Clark said almost sullenly.

"We have been over and over that, Clark," Lois said sternly. "The green just doesn't go. Who has the color sense here? Red is right for you. No green."

"How about the belt?" Clark – whined, thought Perry. "I need a belt to, you know, keep things up."

"All right!" Lois conceded. "You can have a belt." Clark looked happier at that, thought Perry. Lois went on. "But I'm not sure about the cape."

_What the…_thought Perry. _A __**cape**__?_

"You got the red, Lois," Clark said. "I'm not giving in on the cape. I like capes."

"You and FDR," Lois said sarcastically. "And Zorro."

"Hey, I might need it to cover up, um, my package, as you so delicately call it," Clark retorted. Then his voice took on a more tender tone. "And, when we're, um…" Again he made that gesture that Perry couldn't catch. "You got so cold last time. We could wrap you up and you'd be warm then."

Whatever it was they were talking about, and Perry had no idea – frankly, this whole cape thing just came out of left field – what Clark said must have convinced Lois. She looked in Clark's eyes, smiled, and nodded.

"We'll try it out tonight," she said. They walked away.

Perry sat staring at his desk. It served him right, he thought. He eavesdropped but didn't get anything intelligible out of it. And he felt queasy about the eavesdropping. He pulled out his battered copy of _Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, _turned to Step Seven.

_Goaded by sheer necessity, we reluctantly come to grips with those serious character flaws that made us problem drinkers in the first place, flaws which must be dealt with to prevent a retreat into alcoholism once again. We will want to be rid of some of these defects, but in some instances this will appear to be an impossible job from which we recoil. And we cling with a passionate persistence to others which are just as disturbing to our equilibrium, because we still enjoy them too much. _

Perry shut the book. This hit too close to home. He was a reporter, darn it! Well, an editor now, but a reporter at heart. It was a reporter's job to find out!

_Don't you think you're crossing the line here, Perry? _his inner voice asked him. _And Clark and Lois are friends._

He refused to listen to the voice today.

* * *

The very next day, Perry at his usual position at his desk, Clark and Lois met again. Once again, Perry turned his face to his paperwork, trying to avoid any incriminating glances.

"Success!" he heard Lois carol.

"And you will admit, Lois, that I was right about the cape?" Clark teased her.

"Oh all right. You were right," Lois said dismissively. Then she pulled him closer. In an even quieter voice, she said, "We're ready to begin, right?"

"Almost," Clark said. "I talked with Jorl – " _Who __**is **__that?_ Perry thought. They're always referring to him. "- and he said these would do the job."

Perry didn't look up, but he heard Lois' incredulity in her voice. "Glasses?"

"Uh huh. That's what Jorl said," Clark replied stolidly.

"Clark, I know the technology from your, um, home, is pretty advanced. This is the best Jorl could do?" Lois challenged him.

_Technology? _thought Perry. _**Glasses **__are advanced technology in Smallville? _

"Um, I asked him that too. And he said it would work. I just have to wear them," Clark stammered. "Nobody will, um, make the connection." He shuffled a little bit. "Well, obviously you, of course, because you already know."

_Know __**what**__? _Perry thought. These oblique comments irritated the heck out of him.

"Glasses. We're talking _glasses. _Yep," Lois said, disbelievingly. "Well, I've seen some unusual things before. I guess we'll just have to depend on Clark's Law here."

_Clark's Law? _ Perry didn't recognize that.

"Oh, I'm putting my trust in Jorl," Clark said. "He's come through before." Then Clark's voice sounded weary. "What other option do we have?"

"Well, there's the mask –" Lois offered.

"We tried that already. The mask just doesn't work. It keeps on getting turned around. Then I can't use my –" Again, irritatingly, Clark's last words were too softly spoken for Perry to hear.

_Mask? _Perry thought. This conversation was taking a hard right turn into surreality.

"OK," Lois said slowly.

"OK," Clark said in turn. "I'll try it the day after Perry moves into the glass office. You'll be the first to check out my new look." He looked happier. "Then, after work, I'll make my debut. _We'll _make our debut."

_What? _Perry thought again.

"Speaking of debuts, that should be a big enough story for Perry's as Chief Editor," Lois said brightly.

"That's what I thought too," Clark said. A moment of silence.

Perry risked a glance to see the two of them in a quick embrace. He looked down as they separated, Clark heading back to his own desk.

He wrote down as much as he could remember of their conversation. And once again, he felt a twinge of conscience. And he wanted a drink.

Perry distracted himself by looking up something. It turned out there were three Clarke's Laws, and one Clark's Law.

The one Clark's Law was "Sufficiently advanced incompetence is indistinguishable from malice." Perry raised his eyebrows at that one; Lois and Clark were neither incompetent nor malicious. Surely they weren't referring to that.

The three Clarke's Laws, named after the English science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, seemed a little more promising. They were:

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

And Perry, after looking this up and thinking about it for awhile, still wanted a drink.

He made a phone call. "John, can we meet for lunch? Or coffee?"

* * *

Perry sat in the small diner, facing John L., his sponsor. The burly ex-machinist put some artificial sweetener in his coffee and listened to Perry. There was something comforting about the older man. He seemed solid, dependable, in a way that Perry knew he himself had yet to attain. John had over forty-five years of sobriety and had sponsored many in the Friendly Friday group.

"So, let me get this straight," John said. "You're keeping an eye – and an ear - on a couple of your reporters. And you think they're planning something?" He stirred his coffee. "What's the matter with that?"

Put that way, it didn't sound unreasonable. But Perry found himself trying to explain. "It's hard to say. I guess it's who they are." He'd carefully not given John L. any clues as to the identity of the reporters in question; John certainly knew Clark from the latter's frequent attendance at Friendly Friday meetings, and he'd met Lois a time or two as well.

"They're just not the type to do something underhanded. And they're always honest with me."

John latched onto this. "And you're not being honest with them?"

_Yes. That's it. _Perry faced up to it. "Yeah. I kept on telling myself I was chasing a story. But now I'm editor, and I can't lie to myself anymore that way. I'm just invading their privacy." He looked down. "I did that a lot when I was a younger reporter. Before I found out what it could do to people's lives."

John L. looked skeptical. "A reporter with a conscience?" he muttered.

"Hey!" Perry said.

"All right, Perry." The heavyset man leaned forward. "What it gets right down to is, are you working the program? If you do, everything else follows."

"Happy, joyous and free," Perry muttered sarcastically. Then he took a deep breath and looked across the table at his sponsor. "Yeah. I know what I have to do."

John caught his eye. "Then do it."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Perry printed out everything he had in his "Clark Kent" file and deleted all copies of the file. He took a minute to review the hard copy – all his facts (surprisingly few) and his suppositions (surprisingly large). Perry had forgotten he had so much data. Some of his comments came from years ago.

Perry read it all again and sat, staring into space. Probably Clark Kent was a meteor freak, he thought. Perry had heard of those in Smallville and at first had derided them as junk journalism. But events over the years had proven the existence of those with metahuman powers. Heck, Lois had turned in numerous stories on them herself, although not lately. Sure, the _Planet _played them down, tried not to print the stories, tried to force stories into the tabloid pages, but Perry couldn't deny that the meteor-infected actually existed.

And there was a stigma. "Meteor-infected" now, in most people's minds, was equivalent to "homicidal psychopath." And Perry knew Clark. Maybe Clark did have some strange powers (and Perry was pretty sure he had _something_), but Clark was a…just a good guy. So why "out" Clark? Why tar him with the "freak" brush?

Perry felt more at ease with himself than he had for awhile. Later on this week, he would call Clark into his office, explain what he'd been doing, tell Clark this was the only file in existence, and give the file to Clark. Then he'd ask Clark for forgiveness. It was going to be hard. But heck, he'd joined AA and started working the program. Perry knew how to do hard.


	12. Step Seven, Part Four

Perry sighed in contentment. He'd done it. He was Editor-In-Chief of the _Daily Planet, _a major metropolitan newspaper, a newspaper that probably had the most prestige of any publication on the globe. Pretty good for an ex-drunk.

He pulled his one-year sobriety coin out of his pocket and rubbed it for good luck. Light glinted off the obverse and Perry found himself reading the Serenity Prayer for the umpteenth time.

_Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. _Perry sat in reverie for moment.

Then he looked out the glass windows of his office. This early in the morning, only a few reporters populated the lonely bullpen. The quiet would give way to the steady noise of conversation, the click of keyboards, and all the other sounds of a busy newsroom soon enough. Perry noticed that Cat Grant worked at her desk; he smiled at her work ethic. Since she'd taken on the gossip column, the _Planet _had scooped other publications on the hot new buzz.

The door opening caught Perry's eye. Clark and Lois entered, engaged in vigorous conversation. They dropped off their briefcases at their (adjoining) desks while still talking. Cat looked up from her monitor and got up to join them. The two greeted her warmly and all three went to get coffee. Lois brought a package to the coffee station and opened it to reveal two tins of coffee. Perry remembered (how was it that he remembered stuff like this, he thought, but he couldn't remember his son's birthday?) that Lois had signed up for coffee supply duty this week. Even though Lois drank a lot of coffee, she signed up for more than her share of replenishment. But she was that kind of person, Perry thought.

The three began a slow walk to Perry's office, still chatting, Cat using her hands and arms liberally to illustrate her point, whatever it was. Seeing Clark's tall form bracketed by the two shorter women suddenly reminded Perry that he was going to give Clark his file today and tell him about Perry's unofficial eavesdropping.

He'd prefer to be alone with Clark for that, but it looked like all three were coming to his office. Oh well, he could do it anytime. Perry pulled the file out and laid it on his desk.

Something in the demeanors of Clark and Lois hinted at suppressed excitement, Perry thought. It might not be visible to others, but Perry knew them well now. He thought back to Lois' comment that they would have a story for him about the time of his editorial debut. He studied them carefully; by their posture, they weren't quite ready with it yet. Maybe they were coming to him for some last-minute advice?

Lois politely knocked on the open door but didn't wait for Perry's growled "Come in." Instead, she, Clark and Cat stepped in, smiling.

"Congratulations, Chief," Lois said with a snarky smile. She'd found out about the whole embarrassing drunk-Indian-chief episode (of course) and every once in awhile she'd refer to it. Perry had gotten over it and now, in a weird way, kind of liked getting needled by Lois Lane. It kept him humble. Nobody else better try it, though.

"Don't call me Chief," he responded automatically. Then, "Thank you."

"You're the right one for the job, Perry," Clark said in his baritone. From anyone else it would have been flattery, but Perry could hear the sincerity in Clark's tone.

"Thanks, Clark," Perry said. _No time like the present. _"Oh, yes, here's a file for you. I'd like you to look at it later and talk with me about it." He handed Clark the dossier he'd compiled on the other man.

Clark tucked the file into his document case without bothering to look at the contents. "I'll get to it, Perry."

Lois interrupted. "What else does our esteemed Editor-In-Chief desire?" she teased.

"OK, enough of that," Perry said. "What've you got for me, Lois? How's that Luthorcorp story coming along?"

Lois frowned a little and advanced toward Perry at his desk. "It's hard, Perry," she said. "Lex Luthor runs a coverup machine better than Richard Nixon ever did." Lois gestured toward Cat. "Cat hears some things on her beat."

Cat Grant smiled, but for once said nothing.

"And Clark, he's working along with me on it," Lois said. A mischievous smile crossed her face. "In fact, he's got a new disguise for going undercover." She poked Clark in the side. "Show us all, Clark."

Perry held his breath. The surprised glance that Clark gave to Lois, and the loving nod she gave back to him, suggested a significance to the disguise that Perry and Cat were missing.

"OK," Clark said slowly. He turned away from Perry to face Lois, with Cat off to one side. Perry saw only Clark's profile, but he heard Clark's smile in his voice. "You get to see it first, Lois."

Lois chattered, "Clark is interviewing so many questionable people, we felt that he needed some sort of disguise, or at least a way to make his face look different…."

Clark reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. Slowly, staring at Lois, he put them on. Perry saw her eyes meet Clark's.

Her chatter stopped. Lois' eyes locked to Clark's. Her face paled, and she trembled. And suddenly, gracefully, she collapsed.

Clark seemed caught by surprise as Lois buckled and fell. Perry saw with alarm that Lois had hit her head on the corner of his table. A small trickle of blood dripped down her temple and Perry could see a bruise forming already. Clark rushed to her side, and Cat too.

"Smallville!" Cat said angrily. "What'd you do this time?"

Clark lifted his head from Lois to catch Cat's gaze. And Perry saw Cat turn pale. And then Cat sat down hurriedly, fortunately not hitting anything on the way down.

Perry didn't remember getting to his feet and hurrying to Lois. "Is she all right?" he asked Clark as he knelt next to the younger man at Lois' still body.

"I don't know," he heard Clark say. And then Clark turned his head to meet Perry's eyes.

The first thing Perry thought was that Clark's thick black-framed specs were the nerdiest, dorkiest pair of glasses Perry had seen since…since…well, those glasses reached new levels of dorkitude, if that was even a word. Clark Kent looked like a total dweeb.

Then Perry's brown eyes met Clark's deep blue ones. And suddenly Perry was sliding down a tunnel, faster and faster, reaching to stop himself but unable to, slipping and sliding down, out of control. He hadn't left his office, but his mind whirled in a hurricane of vertigo.

He found himself in an expansive dark room. A pinpoint light source illuminated him in its center, its rays fading to darkness at the edges of the room, making its boundaries diffuse and indefinite. Wooden shelves filled some of the acres of stone floor space. Perry, curious, went up to one set of shelves.

Trays of marbles. Perry thought back to his boyhood marble collection – aggies, crystal clear, rubies, cats-eyes. More were here than he'd ever had, more than he'd ever dreamed of having. The marbles formed complex swirling patterns on the trays. He pulled out some drawers; some patterns were three-dimensional. The colors, the layouts, the patterns - all held a vast comfort to Perry.

And a great wind came and blew through the room. And all the marbles in all the trays and in all the drawers blew over or fell out. And hundreds, thousands, millions, of marbles skittered across the cold stone floor. Waves of marbles rose and fell, currents of marbles worked their random way under the wreckage of the wooden shelves and trays.

Perry gasped in horror and reached down futilely to stop the tide, the inundation of marbles knocked out of their patterns. A marble tsunami overcame him as he grasped blindly. He picked up a yellow aggie –

_And he was at the beach with Alice, their honeymoon, and she lay on the sand in her bikini, smiling seductively at him --_

He picked up a red taw.

_He was in a bar fight, and getting the worst of it. A punch sent blood flying from his nose._

More and more marbles touched Perry, and memories bombarded him.

_- Walking the streets of Metropolis, contacting a source_

_-Pacing the halls of the hospital as Alice labored to give birth to their son_

_-Hawking the __**Planet **__as a young newsboy_

_-Dating Cindy Harris, taking her to Makeout Point_

_-Lunch with Alice, a quiet day_

_-Vomiting blood the day after a particularly bad bender_

_-Reading newspaper articles, vowing he'd write for the papers one day_

_-Hanging over Shuster's Gorge, being rescued by Clark Kent_

_-Feeding baby food to his son, and changing the diaper later_

_-Reading in bed quietly one night_

-_Polishing his shoes_

Perry cried out as the marbles rolled away, skittering to the edges of the dark room, bearing his memories with them, memories now lost, or at least jumbled beyond repair. He flailed, wanting to set up the shelves and trays, desperately needing to put the marbles all back in order.

And suddenly there was help. An unseen presence stood behind his shoulder, giving him strength, stopping the insane rolling of acres of marbles, setting up the shelves and trays, restoring the marbles to their places, all at a speed which Perry found breathtaking.

Perry helped, grabbing handfuls of marbles, and somehow knowing where they belonged. And he lived each memory as he did.

Perry grabbed one last blue marble – _Clark Kent, shaking hands with Perry at the bus stop in Smallville, no rope burns on his hands today when they were there yesterday – _ready to put it in its place. He felt disapproval from the unseen presence behind him, and his hand opened, not of his own accord. Perry dropped the marble and watched dully as it bounced and rolled away, off to the dark edges of the big room. Another blue marble – _Clark Kent, building debris falling on him and he's not hurt _– and that one, too, was forced out of his hand. It skittered away with a tiny tapping sound, far out of Perry's reach.

And the unseen presence seemed to have gathered many more blue marbles, and Perry knew somehow that they were all about Clark Kent. And he saw those memories, those marbles, taken away from him, scattered around, lost in the darkness, not to be found again.

And as Perry stood, dazed, in the center of the room, the vast presence restored the rest of the marbles to their places, the shelves and trays set as they should be. All seemed in order. Perry felt a slight uneasiness at that thought. Or had a few of the patterns changed? He couldn't remember. Maybe - was it something about Clark Kent?

No. Clark was just a regular guy. Why did Perry feel like he'd just forgotten something about Clark?

Perry closed his eyes. The slipping down a tunnel slide sensation came over him again. He stopped with a thump.

He opened his eyes to find himself sitting on a chair by his office table, Cat on a facing chair. Clark leaned over him, concern in the blue eyes, the eyes that were strangely dulled by the lenses of the dorky glasses. Clark breathed out as Perry opened his eyes. Perry noted with dull alarm that Lois hadn't regained consciousness. But he couldn't muster up the gumption to get up and help her. Cotton wool wrapped his senses. With relief, Perry noticed that Clark knelt on the floor next to Lois.

"Lois," Clark said urgently, cradling her in his arms, ignoring the blood from her head wound staining his suit jacket. "Lois!"

Lois remained unconscious. Perry looked over at Cat – she at least was awake, although looking as if she had a bad hangover.

Clark hugged Lois closer. "Lois! Lois!"

Perry saw Lois open her eyes. Clark gave a sigh of relief. Lois raised a hand to her head and rubbed at the bruised area before wincing and pulling her hand away. She gazed up at Clark and said brightly, "Who are you?"

"What?" Clark and Perry said simultaneously.

Lois continued looking up at Clark. "Why am I on the floor, why are you holding me, and Who. Are. You.?" she asked slowly, as if talking to a mentally impaired person.

Vacant incomprehension covered Clark's face. Then Perry saw Clark rip the nerdy glasses off his face and stare at them in absolute horror.

"Lois! Don't you know me?" Clark pleaded. Perry thought Clark's voice sounded defeated, as if he already knew the answer.

"You look sort of familiar," Lois said. She put her hand to her temple again and gently felt the injured area.

"Don't you know Smallville?" Cat asked. Perry noted her usual acerbic tone was flattened and dulled, as he suspected his own voice was.

Clark had gathered up Lois and set her on another chair at Perry's office table. He picked up his glasses from the floor and carefully, almost gingerly, thought Perry, tucked them into his jacket pocket. "Wait here," he said shortly.

Perry was looking directly at Clark when the latter…._shimmered_. There was no other word for it, thought Perry. And in any other circumstances, Perry would be on it like a starving dog on a steak. But whatever the cause of Perry's odd lethargy and dullness, it prevented him from getting too excited. Perry's thought was only, _Oh yeah, _in a flat monotone. He didn't even turn to Cat and Lois to ask if they'd seen it too.

When Clark finished shimmering, Perry saw with muted amazement that Clark now had a box in each hand. The dull gray boxes had no labels or indication of contents. Clark stepped up to Perry.

"Perry, do this for me, please," he said. Clark reached into his jacket and carefully pulled out the nerdy glasses. "I want you to take what's in this box and touch it to the glasses."

_Why? _Perry thought about asking. But he couldn't generate the enthusiasm. He reached for the box. It was surprisingly heavy. Clark moved back to the far end of the office. Perry opened the box.

Inside, a chunk of green rock took up most of the interior space. Perry raised his eyebrows. This was meteor rock, for sure. Perry had run across enough of it in his Smallville investigation – _Why was I in Smallville anyway? Oh yes, for X-Styles, about the….about…._ He couldn't remember why. But the cotton wool came down and stopped his worry about not remembering.

The glasses on the table caught his eye. Perry pulled the meteor rock out of the heavy box. That was interesting, he thought. The rock had taken on a slight glow. As asked, Perry touched it to the glasses.

"Nothing," he told Clark, who stood quite far away. "Are you all right, Clark?" Perry asked. Clark certainly looked pale and trembly, enough for Perry to see even in Perry's dulled condition.

"I'm OK," Clark said tightly. "Please, touch Lois with that, Perry." He jerked his head in Lois' direction.

_Weird request._ But it just seemed easier to do what Clark asked, so Perry leaned over and touched Lois with the glowing rock. Perry looked up to see Clark staring at her hopefully.

"Lois? Do you know me now?" Clark asked.

She raised her head to return his gaze. Even Perry could see that she had no recollection of Clark.

Clark sighed deeply. His shoulders slumped. "We've got to try the other one," he told Perry. "Could you please put that back in the box and close the lid?"

In a semi-stupor, Perry did as Clark requested.

"And now could you please open the other box, and do the same things? Touch the glasses with what's in there, and touch Lois with it, too?"

_OK_, Perry thought, again finding it easier just to do what Clark said rather than get up or argue or even think. He opened the second box to find a Smallville High class ring. He pulled it out, noticing that the ruby-red stone had also acquired a slight glow in the fluorescent lights of his office.

He touched it to the glasses. Really, he had no idea as to why Clark looked at them with the unblinking intensity usually devoted to perusal of a live bomb. As Perry expected, touching the glasses with the class ring caused no change in ring, glasses, Lois, Cat, or himself.

"Touch it to Lois, please," Clark almost begged. He came a little closer to the table where Perry, Cat, and Lois sat.

"Hey, what's all this 'hit Lois with stones' stuff?" Lois demanded. She grabbed Perry's hand and forced him to give her the class ring. "What are you doing? What _is _this?" She rolled the ring around in her palm for a minute. "I come into the office, I get hit on the head, and now you're pelting me with rocks!" Breathing heavily, she punctuated the end of her rant by throwing the ring at Clark. He was only a few feet away. She could hardly miss.

Clark quickly grabbed the ring, stopping it from hitting him in the eye. Perry's eyes were naturally drawn to the motion of the thrown ring; he sighed in relief as Clark caught it. Perry kept his eyes on Clark's for a moment longer and gave a gasp of surprise as he saw Clark's eyes turn red. Then Perry blinked. Clark's eyes were normal now. Had Perry imagined it?

Clark stood straighter now. Suddenly his posture exuded menace. Perry shivered. This wasn't the usual friendly Clark Kent. This was someone he really didn't want to meet in a dark alley somewhere. The scary Clark came closer and Perry realized he didn't want to meet this Clark at all. This Clark was a predator and Perry was the prey. Perry cowered back in his seat.

"I'll take her to Jorl and we'll get this settled!" growled Menacing Clark. He picked up Lois, held her in his arms.

Clark and Lois vanished.

Perry felt his mouth fall open. The door hadn't opened, the windows were shut, and Clark's footprints still crushed the pile of the rug near Perry's desk. Clark had literally vanished. One moment he was there, the next gone.

It wasn't till Perry turned in his chair to see Cat, her face holding an identical expression, that he realized that the two boxes, Clark's glasses, and Lois had vanished too.

Cat and Perry stared at each other.

"That was odd," Cat said carefully, quietly.

"Um, yes," Perry agreed. The cotton wool seemed to descend again and Perry felt an intensification of the strange lassitude that had held him captive ever since he met Clark Kent's eyes. That is, Clark Kent's eyes behind the nerdy glasses. Judging by the way Cat slumped in her chair, she was feeling the same thing.

"Uh, Clark getting angry like that….Lois doesn't seem herself either…" Perry mumbled. He tried to list the sequence of events in his head. He'd need to describe the events leading to Lois' head injury to the workmen's comp people, he knew. But the more he tried to remember the exact circumstances, the more the cotton wool pressed down. Once again, Perry felt that vast presence in his head, sorting through memories and discarding some.

_Clark vanishing…._gone.

_The strange glowing of the meteor rocks…._gone.

_The red tinge in Clark's eyes…._gone.

_Lois' sudden strange unfamiliarity with Clark…._no, it wasn't sudden. She hardly knew him.

Perry fought back against the strange mental censor. Certainly Lois knew Clark! They'd spent their teen years in Smallville together, they were informal partners at the _Planet_, and they were working on some big story together.

The looming presence in Perry's mind, like the incoming tide, could not be resisted.

_Lois and Clark chatting at the morning coffee station, making some sort of secret, but highly anticipated, plans….._gone.

_Clark kissing Lois on the sly in the newsroom, but Perry had caught a glimpse of that display of affection…_gone.

_Lois and Clark arguing with Perry over a story, each finishing the other's sentences…._gone.

_Lois meeting Clark and Perry for coffee after a Friendly Friday meeting…._gone.

_Lois doesn't know Clark…._yes, that's right, thought Perry dully. _And there's nothing unusual about Clark Kent. He's just a regular guy, maybe with a little drug problem, that goes to Friendly Friday meetings with me, a guy who's worked himself up to be a reporter at the Daily Planet. Clark's just as normal as you and me. _

He said that out loud, and Cat Grant nodded her head. "Clark's as normal as you and me," she repeated.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Perry got a call.

"Perry?" Clark's voice sounded tired and beaten.

"Clark?" Perry replied.

"I'm here at Metropolis General with Lois," Clark said.

"Metropolis General?" Perry repeated.

"Yes, Perry," Clark said patiently. "She hit her head, remember?"

A slight recurrence of the cotton-wool feeling. Then Perry remembered – a mini-staff meeting in his office, Lois gesturing and losing her balance, and hitting her head on the edge of the table. Clark had…_what had he done, specifically? _A strange feeling of something missing here, then the cotton wool descended again. Oh yes, Clark had rushed Lois to the hospital. A nice thing to do considering they hardly knew each other.

"How's she doing?" Perry asked. He liked Lois; she was one of his best reporters. _A quick tinge of a memory of Clark, Lois and himself arguing about proper verb forms…._no, that was gone.

"The doctors say she's going to be fine, but they want to keep her overnight for observation," Clark said wearily. "They're concerned about a concussion."

"Well, make sure she's settled in OK, and come back here, Clark," Perry said. "We've still got to cover the city beat."

Later, when Clark entered the newsroom, Perry thought he'd never seen the man look so down. Clark's shoulders, usually straight, bowed as if under a heavy weight. And his usual cheerful face carried a bitter, hopeless expression.

"Clark! How's Lois?" Perry came up to ask him.

"She's fine," Clark said dully. Then he muttered, "At least, as fine as she's going to be."

Perry decided to let that one lie there. He caught a glimpse of the ring on Clark's finger.

"Hey, I thought those Smallville class rings had rubies in them. How come yours is clear glass?"

"Oh, it got inactivated…" Clark trailed off into a mumble. Perry thought he heard, "by Jorl at the Fortress…" but that made no sense.

"Well, Clark, time to get back to business," Perry said in a deliberately brisk tone. Work would be the cure for whatever was ailing Clark, Perry thought. "I thought you had promised me a big story for the day I took over the editorship?"

Surprise, realization, and then a profound bitterness crossed Clark's face. "I'm sorry, Perry," he said in a trembling voice, "I need Lois to do that story. We were working on it together."

"Well, can't you reconstruct it from her notes? Just because she's in the hospital…" Perry pushed.

"No, Perry, she wasn't keeping written notes on this story," Clark replied more steadily. "It was all in her head. And right now, she doesn't remember…." He looked down at the ground and said softly, "I'm lost without her."

Perry let that comment go by. Obviously Clark hadn't meant it to be heard. "OK, no big story, then, Kent?" he challenged Clark.

Clark shook his head, not looking Perry in the eye.

"Then get out there and bring in some news, Kent!" Perry said sharply.

Clark turned away and began walking to his desk.

"Kent!" Perry called.

Clark looked back at Perry.

"I thought you were wearing glasses now?"

Clark gave another bitter smile. "I don't think I'll be wearing those glasses for awhile," he said as he walked away. "I don't like the way they make people look at me."

_Author's note: Thanks to EllenF (ellyfanfiction dot blogspot dot com) whose amnesia idea from the fine story "First Meetings" was borrowed/stolen for my fic. Also thanks to the unremembered person who posted on Kryptonsite dot com, a post suggesting that Clark Kent's nerdy glasses were Kryptonian in origin. If I can find out or remember your name, I'll credit you properly. If any reviewers know it, please let me know.  
_


	13. Step Eight, Part One

_Author's note: References events from the 1978 movie, "Superman". The idea of Lois forgetting is somewhat based on the EllenF excellent fanfic, "First Meeting". See her website at ellyfanfiction dot blogspot dot com._

* * *

_**Step Eight: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.**_

Perry sat in his chair in the back row at the Friendly Friday meeting. He preferred the back row as he often came in late, and he considered it rude to interrupt the meeting. No lateness today, however, as today's speaker promised to be a cut above the usual.

Hank G., a former lawyer, was well into his talk, a well-spoken, amusing "drunk-a-log". The crowd laughed as Hank continued. "So I kept on drinking, and I was hung over all the time, and I wasn't making any money, so I dipped into the clients' escrow accounts."

A slight disturbance next to Perry, and Clark Kent sat down. The tall man dwarfed the folding chair, but he sat gracefully nonetheless. Perry nodded at Clark and made a small "hello" gesture which Clark returned. He noted curiously that Clark had put the dorky glasses back on – maybe his contact lenses were giving him trouble? Clark had mentioned before that the contacts bothered his eyes.

The two men listened to Hank G.'s account of his spiral into worsening alcoholism, with stops for divorce and disbarment along the way.

Hank followed with his tale of working up from rock bottom, and dealing with the mess he'd made of his life. "And then I found out that "sober" is actually an acronym for 'Son of a B!tch! Everything's Real!'" the ex-lawyer joked.

Perry smiled at that – things certainly were real. The world was brighter, clearer, more in focus now that he wasn't anesthetizing himself with a bottle of booze every day. Of course, the downside was that, without the anesthesia, bad things hurt more too. But Perry had learned that the good outweighed the bad. And he'd learned ways of dealing with the bad without needing the crutch of alcohol.

Hank said, "And right now I'm an assistant in a law office, and some snot-nosed, pimply-faced kid lawyer there told me to get him a Coca-Cola from the vending machine. I wanted to smack him in the face." He gave a rueful laugh. "Then I thought of Step Eight and I just said, "Diet or regular, sir?"

The crowd roared again at Hank's sardonic tone. Face it, getting sober wasn't all fun and games. But they could laugh at it, together.

Perry saw Clark smiling gravely too. He wondered in passing what Clark's drug problem was – Clark never had said anything besides that it was a "designer drug." Perry had been worried about his reporter – Lois' head injury seemed to have hit Kent pretty hard.

Apparently Lois Lane had developed some sort of amnesia, at least from Clark's point of view, because Perry kept on seeing him make references to some supposed shared experiences that Lois totally denied knowing about. In fact, she'd become irritated at Clark, and had gone to Perry demanding that Clark stop harassing her. Perry had called Clark into his office for a little informal one-on-one counseling, and had seen Clark's face pale.

"She doesn't want you around, Kent, if you keep on annoying her with your old home week stories," Perry had said.

"Perry, we went to high school together! We were good friends! I wrote on the _Smallville Torch _paper with her! She was my editor there!" Clark expostulated.

"Well, Clark," Perry said patiently, "that hit on the head must have really scrambled her brains, then, because she doesn't remember any of that." He smiled. "Well, she remembers being editor of the _Torch, _which she constantly refers to when she wants me to change one of my editorial decisions."

"Perry," Clark said earnestly, "I'm hoping that if I keep on reminding her of it, the memories will come back to her."

"Well, they don't seem to be," Perry said. "And I'd advise you to tone it down. Lois has complained to me, and the next thing she wants is for you and her to be separated totally – no shared stories, move your desk as far away as possible – basically get you out of her life." He gave Clark a hard glance. "And, in the current atmosphere, the things you do could possibly be construed as sexual harassment. And then you're gone."

Clark swallowed.

Perry continued in a more conciliatory tone. "I know it's hard for you, son, but I'm asking you. Just keep the conversation professional. Lois is very focused - she wants the story. You two – you're a great team together. Just keep things on a professional level. Don't go off into some reminiscence that irritates the hell out of her. Focus on work."

"So, you want me to take someone that's a good friend, and just talk work to her? No real conversation?" Clark said bitterly.

"Clark, right now that's all she knows," Perry replied, sympathizing with the anguished look on Clark's face.

"So, I've got to earn her trust and friendship again?" Clark asked.

"Yep."

"And get her to put up with me?"

"Yep."

"And then I can start boring her with my old home reminiscences again?" A reluctant amusement crept into Clark's voice.

Perry smiled. "Yep. Just take it one day at a time." The two men shared a glance at the AA motto. Perry continued, "You don't give up, do you?"

Clark smiled back. "You taught me that." He stood up, pushed his chair back. "OK, OK. I'll stop with the Smallville talk. From now on with me and Lois, it's professional all the way. No talk of the past." He looked away and Perry barely caught the whispered aside, "Until she remembers."

Perry came back to himself with a start – he'd missed the last ten minutes of Hank G.'s talk. He glanced over at Clark curiously. Right after Lois had hit her head and lost her memory, Clark had seemed distraught for weeks. Perry was afraid that Clark would turn to drugs again – the risk factors were there. A man with little or no family, somewhat isolated from the world, losing a close friend – a stressful time.

But Clark hadn't gone back to drugs, as far as Perry knew. He'd kept on coming to work every day, and kept on turning in professional stories. Heck, he'd turned in more stories than Perry had ever seen him do before. Perry had seen him every week at the Friendly Friday group, and had talked with Clark on the AA hotline one or two times – Clark was asking for meeting information. And Perry had gone occasionally to other meetings and had run into Clark at those meetings once or twice.

So all in all, Perry figured that Clark had recognized the temptation too, and was going to meetings and keeping himself busy at work to avoid giving in to the seductive lure of addiction. They'd never talked about it openly, but Clark had given enough hints that Perry deduced it.

Hank G.'s talk ended with thunderous applause. After the usual post-meeting mingling, Perry and Clark set out for a leisurely walk back to the _Daily Planet _building.

The bright spring sunshine enlivened everyone's spirits. Perry thought that Clark seemed especially invigorated. The reporter took off his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder as they walked through the crowded streets of Metropolis. He turned his face up to the sun, luxuriating in the warm glow.

"Don't your eyes get dazed?" Perry asked curiously, as Clark seemed for a moment to look directly into the sunlight.

Clark jerked his head down, momentarily startled. "Ah, no," he said lamely.

"How's that Luthorcorp story coming along?" Perry asked, changing the subject.

Clark looked at the crowd nearby and lowered his voice. "We're really making progress, Perry," he said. "Lois has lined up some sources…I don't want to say more right here."

"She's keeping proper notes now, I hope," Perry grumbled. "The trouble with keeping notes in your head is that when your head gets hit, you lose them all."

Clark shrugged. "You're right, Perry. This time we've got everything documented. Names, dates, files – it's all there."

"Encrypted, of course?" Perry asked.

Clark gave a short laugh. "Yeah, Lois is pretty good at the computer stuff. She swears on a stack of Bibles that the information is secure."

"I hope so," Perry said soberly. "You and I know that the Luthors are no people to mess with." He gave Clark a curious look. "You knew Lex Luthor in Smallville, didn't you?"

Clark hesitated. Perry picked up on that with the seasoned reportorial instinct he'd developed over thirty years. "Right?" Perry asked.

"Um, yeah, we had a…pretty strong acquaintanceship in Smallville," Clark admitted.

"I heard you were friends, once," Perry probed.

Clark's voice was clipped. "Once. Now we're not."

Perry sighed. "OK, Clark. It's just that the _Planet _will have to have an interview with Lex Luthor for this story. You know how secretive he is. I was hoping you – "

" – could use my previous friendship with Lex to get the interview?" Clark asked sharply.

"Well, either you or Lois has to do it, and she categorically, flat-out, 100 percent, refuses," Perry said, his smile taking the sting out of the words.

Clark paused for a moment as the two men strode along on the uneven Metropolis sidewalks. "Yeah, she would." He took a few more steps. "I'll try, Perry, but I don't think Lex will see me. But I'll put in a request with his PR department."

They were almost at the doors of the _Planet. _Perry felt a wave of concern. "You're keeping an eye out, aren't you? Even if you're doing this investigation on the q.t., Lex Luthor seems to have moles everywhere."

"I'm being careful," Clark replied.

"Keep an eye on Lois, too," Perry asked. "You know she's not the best at covering herself when she's going after a hot story."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Clark promised. Perry looked up at the promise in his voice. It was hard not to believe Clark when he used that particular tone. Clark continued, "Besides, right now, she's got that Presidential interview. They've got all that security - hopefully, she's covered too, right now."

Perry nodded.

Clark went on, a tinge of pride in his voice. "Pretty good for her to get an interview like that – the only reporter in Metropolis." Perry heard naked longing in Clark's voice. "That Lois – she's really somebody."

"Well, you could be somebody too, Clark," Perry said jokingly. Clark was his second-best reporter, Lois being the best. "Just put in the extra work like Lois does. Before you know it, ta da! You're somebody!"

They both laughed.

"Lois is unique, you know that, Perry," Clark said. He smiled.

"Yeah, it's not just the extra work that makes her a great reporter," Perry agreed.

"But, strange you should mention that, Chief," Clark said lightheartedly. "I've been wondering about doing some extra work lately. I thought that I had to do it with Lois, but she's been so busy with her own job that I've decided to go out on my own." Perry noticed a momentary sad look in Clark's eyes, despite the jocular tone.

"Care to tell me what it's about?" Perry probed. It didn't matter; he was sure that Clark would come back with another amazing story. Or several.

"Um, not right now, Perry, but hopefully there'll be a good story or two in it."

"Well, Clark," Perry said, slapping him on the back, "Lois is going to be busy with this Presidential interview. So you go ahead and do your extra thing. Hopefully it'll be newsworthy."

"Do you have plans?" Clark asked, tacitly turning away from whatever his own plans were.

Perry actually shuffled his feet. Somehow they'd gotten into a confidence-sharing mode.

"What?" Clark asked, smiling.

"You know Alice?" Perry asked.

"Your ex?"

"Yes," Perry replied.

Clark raised his eyebrows. "Yes?" he said encouragingly.

Perry thought about what he'd like to say. He'd like to say to Clark: "I've been working Step Eight with her for a long time, trying to make up for all the missed dinners and broken promises from when we were married." He would like to confide in Clark: "And she's given me a second chance." His voice would accelerate, and he'd continue talking to the tall man beside him who was so good at listening, and he'd say: "And I've fallen in love with her all over again – not that I ever really fell out of love with her. "

But he couldn't bring himself to say all that. Clark might understand the repeated promise-breakings, the innumerable small betrayals that had shattered the trust that he and Alice once had. And that would be just too embarrassing.

So, instead, all Perry said was, "I'm going to propose to her tonight at our favorite restaurant. And I hope that she'll marry me again." From Clark's expression, he knew that his voice had said more than just his words.

Clark, stunned, stood speechless. Then he breathed out, "Wow! Perry, I had no idea…"

"She's the one for me, Clark," Perry said seriously. "And I'd do a lot to get her back." Then he stood back, suddenly embarrassed at the torrential outflow of feeling he'd kept back for months. Clark was just such a good listener, he drew things out.

Clark seemed pensive for a moment, not meeting Perry's gaze. Perry thought he heard him murmur, "There's only one for me too…if only I can get her back…" Then Clark squared his shoulders and gave Perry a smile.

"Well, gosh, Perry, I sure hope that it goes well," Clark said, putting a hand on Perry's arm. "I wish you two the best." He smiled again, carefully offering social inanities to cover their moment of near-connection. Perry laughed too, and the two men entered the _Planet _building.


	14. Step Eight, Part Two

_Author's note: references events in the 1978 movie "Superman". _

The soft candlelight reflected off Perry's water goblet and put an extra sparkle into Alice's eyes. The attentive waiter removed their dessert plates – Alice had ordered the mousse au chocolat, Perry opting for the Black Forest Torte.

Perry caressed the small box in his pocket. A ring nestled within. Alice and he had had a comradely meal, reminiscing about the good times of their marriage, tacitly ignoring the bad times. Perry's heart swelled. This dinner only confirmed that Alice was the woman for him.

Her contralto died off. Perry hadn't really been listening to her for the last few minutes, just taking in the beauty of her face in the candlelight. He patted the ring box in his pocket one last time for good luck and leaned forward.

"Alice?"

"Yes, Perry?"

He leaned a little closer. The mood was set. Alice still had feelings for him, he could tell. She seemed disposed to give him another chance. Now that he was sober…Perry opened his mouth to ask her.

His phone rang.

"Damn!" he leaned back. Why hadn't he turned off his phone? He'd figured that telling everyone, pointedly, at the _Planet _that he was not to be disturbed unless aliens landed or nuclear war broke out would have been sufficient. He'd figured that Morris, the night editor, could handle things. Obviously, he'd figured wrong.

The phone rang again.

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Are you going to get that?" She expected him to, apparently.

Perry sighed and flipped the phone open. It was the _Daily Planet. _

"This better be an emergency," he growled into the phone.

John Morris' voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry to bother you, Perry. It _is_ an emergency."

"So what was it that you had to disturb me at dinner for?" Perry asked.

"Lois Lane was supposed to interview the President tonight…" Morris began.

"_Supposed _to?" Perry asked.

"Her helicopter crashed, she was unconscious, they rushed her to the hospital. Now she's awake, but the doctors won't let her go. You're the one listed as the contact in her medical files. They didn't have a number for you, so they called the _Planet. _She's squawking, the medics are screaming back, and they'll only release her into your custody."

"Tell her to stay there till tomorrow morning," Perry said curtly. "They'll let her out then."

"I told her that already, Perry," Morris pleaded. "She told me to tell you she has to get out now, there's a Pulitzer story in it."

"A Pulitzer?" Perry asked, his interest whetted.

Across the table, Alice's face fell.

"She told me to tell you that. Pulitzer, no doubt," Morris persisted. Perry, despite his anger at the ill-timed interruption, felt a reluctant sympathy for him, caught between the Scylla of Perry's emphatic instructions and the Charybdis of Lois Lane at full rant.

"How's the helicopter crew?" Perry asked belatedly, only now hearing what the man had said minutes ago. "The helicopter _crashed_?"

"The pilot's at the hospital too, unconscious," John Morris replied. "The helicopter is damaged, we don't know how bad yet."

Perry thought for a moment. He looked across at Alice. She was fiddling with her nails. The moment had passed. He put his hand over his phone and said sotto voce to her, "Lois is in the hospital."

A wave of concern crossed Alice's face. She knew and liked Lois Lane. "She needs you?" At Perry's nod, she ordered, "You go there, Perry!"

Perry took his hand off his phone. "OK, I'll be there," he told Morris.

Morris couldn't disguise the relief he felt. "Metropolis General," he told Perry. "She's probably still in the ER."

"OK," Perry said, and terminated the call. He stood up, gesturing for the waiter to bring the check. He tossed his credit card on the tray.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said. And he was.

"Perry, you just go and take a look at Lois," Alice said. Perry found that one of Alice's most endearing characteristics – how she cared about others, even when it upset her own plans. "You make sure she's all right."

Perry leaned over to kiss Alice. The waiter coughed gently and presented the credit slip. Perry swore mentally and leaned back. He added a generous tip, and scribbled his name. "I'll see you later, honey?" he appealed.

"Call me," Alice said wanly.

"OK," Perry said, turning and walking to the exit, the lure of a Pulitzer-worthy story in his blood. He strode rapidly to the parking lot. Reaching into his pocket to get his keys, he felt the ring box once again. He looked back at the restaurant, stood silently just a moment, then got into his car and drove to Metropolis General Hospital.

* * *

"A _flying man_?" Perry asked incredulously. "Lois, are you sure you didn't get hit on the head? Are you hallucinating? Did those doctors check you out all the way?"

"I only fainted," Lois said in irritation. "Listen, Perry, I know how it sounds. All I can say is, there I was dangling a hundred stories over the pavement, barely holding on." She swallowed. "I fell. Then this guy caught me."

"So you said that you looked down and nothing was supporting him," Perry prompted. She'd told the story once before but Perry found it so unbelievable he wanted Lois to tell it again. Perry knew how to listen for inconsistencies, how to hear what a source didn't want to say.

"As God is my witness, Perry," Lois continued solemnly, "this guy was flying. He caught me."

"And then?" Perry asked.

"Then the helicopter fell off the building."

"And?" Perry asked again.

"And whoever this guy was, he caught it in one hand."

"And?" Perry repeated.

"And he flew me and the helicopter back up to the _Planet _roof."

"Right," Perry said, skeptically. "So whoever your savior was, he can _fly_, and he's strong enough to lift a helicopter."

"Yes!" Lois insisted.

"Do you have anything else?" Perry said cynically. For this he'd left Alice at their dinner? He groaned mentally in frustration.

The only reason he was giving this much time to tabloid garbage was that it was Lois describing it. Lois had come through on some pretty improbable things before. But this story was so fantastic, so improbable, no, _impossible. _It was out of character for Lois, who usually had her supporting facts buttressing a story better than the famous masonry that supported Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

"Well, he was wearing blue spandex, and he had a red cape," Lois said reluctantly.

"A red cape?" Perry repeated. "Blue spandex? Lois, honey, you've had a big shock here…" He smiled. "Is this the corroborative detail that's intended to lend verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative?" As ever, the line from _The Mikado _brought a slight smile to his face.

"Perry, it really happened!" Lois hissed. Perry hadn't seen her so angry in a long while. "I'm sorry that I didn't get any video, but I was busy hanging on for my life, and then falling off a building!"

"Any video?" Perry said, suddenly thinking.

"This is Metropolis," Lois said, calming. "Somebody probably – no, somebody _must_ have had a video camera going."

They looked at each other, then both headed out for the waiting room and the panel of televisions there. Perry watched in silence. His mouth fell open.

"Lois, I'm sorry," he said.

"That's OK, Perry," she replied. "I know it sounded crazy."

"Crazy or not, that's your story," Perry began. "You write that up, Lois. I want it by deadline for the morning edition. Get everything you can. You're going to get a Pulitzer out of this!"

He turned back to the televisions. An amateur videographer had managed to get a blurry close-up of the flying figure, who was dressed in the red and blue just as Lois had said. Something about the figure teased at Perry's memory. "Does that guy look familiar to you?"

Lois looked carefully. "I…don't think so, Perry," she said. "Of course, those ten seconds aren't the best quality video. I mean, there is something a little familiar about him?" she asked hesitantly.

A strange fuzziness in Perry's brain, a feeling of memory just out of reach. "Ah, probably not." He laughed. "I mean, do you know any flying guys?"

"Nope. And I don't know anybody that wears capes either," Lois agreed, smiling.

"OK, Lois, let's sign you out. Get the story," Perry commanded.

"I'm on it, Chief."


	15. Step Eight, Part Three

_Author's note: references events in, and uses dialogue from, the 1978 movie, "Superman". _

Perry spent the night watching the increasingly feverish video coverage of the flying blue-spandex-clad man, and dispatching reporters to wherever the man was reported to be. His reporters were always too late, arriving where the man had been, but never where he was now.

Perry gulped coffee. He'd pay for that tomorrow. But the story was now, dammit, and he was going to make sure the _Planet _got the news out. As word spread, amateur videographers infested the streets, and more and more video clips made it onto the media stream.

He gave up coordinating the flood of information and sat wearily at his editor's chair, just watching. Mostly the TV showed a replay of Lois and the helicopter, but as the evening progressed, some new clips showed. An eleven-year old got a great shot of the man from the back and side, flexing his knees and then levitating upward, in total defiance of gravity.

"Gravity," Perry murmured the old graffito to himself softly. "Not just a good idea. It's the law." He snorted. Apparently this man, whoever he was, could break natural law with impunity. He watched the clip again. The red cape with the yellow emblem – _what __**is**__ that, anyway?_ – fluttered in the breeze of the man's rising.

Perry mentally tabulated what he knew. Obviously a man. Black hair, cut fairly short. Tall, maybe six-two or six-three. He seemed muscular, but not overly developed to the point of parody. So far Perry hadn't gotten a close-up glimpse of his face. But his movements irritated Perry – they seemed so _familiar_, somehow. Perry got an annoying flash of déjà vu almost every time he looked up at a video clip of the man, but when he tried to pursue it, he couldn't recall.

"So who is this guy?" Perry murmured. "Some sort of experiment? Does he have some powerful jetpack underneath that cape?" But that didn't explain the strength, did it? "An experiment of some sort? Recombinant DNA? Ultra-steroids?" Perry got up and paced. "We need more information."

He wasn't the only one who wanted more information. The _Planet _fielded more phone calls that morning than it ever had. The usual answering staff dealt with most. Perry had to take only one call and it both perplexed and intrigued him. He put it out of his mind as he saw it was time for the staff meeting. He'd deal with the call later.

He put on his best editor's face for the staff meeting that morning. Perry called in everyone and threw today's newspapers on the table in front of them all.

"Now look. _The Post _– 'It Flies.' _The Daily News _– 'Look Ma, No Wires.' _The Times_ – 'Blue Bomb Buzzes Metropolis'. He slammed down their own publication. "_The Planet_ – 'Caped Wonder Stuns City.'" That headline was lame, in Perry's opinion, but it was the best they could do. A fuzzy photograph of a vaguely man-shaped object in the sky, silhouetted with the towers of downtown Metropolis in the background, only irritated Perry by its lack of focus and detail.

Perry stood straighter and pitched his voice to the edges of the room. "We're sitting on top of the story of the century here. I want the name of this flying whatchamacallit to go with the _Daily Planet _like bacon and eggs. Franks and beans!" He caught subtle nodding motions from his assembled reporters and continued. "Death and taxes! Politics and corruption!"

In surprise, Perry heard a diffident voice from the background.

"I don't think that he would lend himself to any cheap promotional schemes, Mr. White," said Clark Kent.

The interruption infuriated Perry, who was working up to a glorious rah-rah finish. "Exactly how would you know that, Kent?" he asked, getting in Kent's face. Everyone else in the room looked at Kent too.

"Um…first impression?" Kent volunteered.

Perry spun back on his heel. "Well, anyway, who's talking cheap? I'll make him a partner if I have to!" He began pacing in the small amount of office space left, addressing short sentences to each reporter in turn.

"I want the real story! I want the inside dope on this guy! Has he got a family?" Jane Morris gulped, made a note on her pad. "Where does he live?" Dick Williams nodded. "What does the "S" stand for?" Denora McClain made a small gesture of agreement.

"Tony, who is he?" Perry continued his rhetorical questions. "Mike, what's his name? What's he got hidden under that cape of his? Batteries?" A few reporters dared to make a slight curving of the lips that might, just possibly, be construed as a smile. "Why did he show up last night?" Several reporters nodded, obviously wondering the same thing.

"Dick, where does he come from?" Perry paced. "Does he have a girlfriend?" Perry turned just in time to see Lois with a secret smile. _I wonder what __**that**__ means. You've got the hots for him already, right, Lois? _He moved on, but not before seeing Lois look down to read a small note in her hands. Hopefully it was from some source or other and she'd come by in a few hours with another great story.

Perry continued his oration. "What's his favorite ball team, Kent?" Perry ignored the abortive answer Clark made. Didn't Clark recognize a rhetorical flourish?

Perry worked up to the climax. "Now listen to me, I tell you, boys and girls." He straightened himself, using a practiced motion to gather attention. "Whichever one of you gets it out of him is gonna wind up with the single most important interview since…since God talked to Moses!"

Silence from the assembly. Irritation roiled Perry. Didn't they get it?

"What are you standing around about for? Move! Get on that story!"

The clattering of chairs and sounds of reporters rushing out reassured Perry. He hadn't lost his touch.

* * *

Before Perry left for the morning and some long-overdue sleep, he called Lois in one more time.

"Are you OK, Lois?" he asked. He could see she was, but there were times she hadn't been, stubbornly denying weakness. Perry considered it his job to rein in Lois Lane when she needed it and wouldn't admit it.

"I'm fine, Perry," Lois replied. And indeed she looked pink, flushed with anticipation.

"Lois, I know you didn't get the Presidential interview last night – "

"I'm going to get it today," she interrupted.

"You sure?" Perry asked, incredulously. He didn't think anyone would be able to, given the packed Presidential schedule.

"Yeah, Perry, I got it arranged." Lois smiled. "All I had to do was mention that the flying man saved me too. The President was very interested in talking with me." Her smile faded. "By the way, Perry, have you heard anything from your contacts in Washington? Or the Pentagon?"

"That's something I hadn't thought of till now, Lois," Perry admitted. Face it – he wasn't young anymore. He needed his sleep. He could tell how much the previous night was slowing him down, costing him precious quickness.

He continued. "Whoever this flying guy is, if he's theirs, they're going to want to debrief him. And if he's not theirs – " Lois and Perry exchanged glances. The flying man had shown power. So far he'd used it in a benign way. But what were the limits of that power? And what if he chose to use it for other purposes, purposes that might not be so benign? It was certainly the duty of the politicians and the military to assess the threat – or possible threat – and come up with a response strategy.

"I'm getting the impression that this guy isn't theirs," Lois said slowly. "Just from the eagerness to talk with me. And from some other stuff I've heard."

"Lois, remember – _you_ interview _them_. Don't let the President and his posse interview you, Lois," Perry told Lois unnecessarily.

"No chance of that, Perry," Lois said cheerfully. "Who's the prize-winning reporter here, anyway?"

"We both are, Lois, remember?" Perry asked pointedly. "Oh yes. That reminds me. How are you coming on the Luthorcorp story?" Perry thought about the odd phone call he'd received this morning.

"Well, it was going to be this Sunday's headline," Lois said, suddenly grumpy. "Now this flying guy is probably going to take over the front page."

"Lois," Perry said slowly. "I don't know about the flying guy. But I did get a very interesting phone call from Luthorcorp early this morning."

Lois stiffened. If she were a bird dog she'd be on point. "Yes?" she asked.

"Lex Luthor is granting your request for an interview," Perry told her.

She stared, momentarily flummoxed. "Why?" she asked. "We've been trying to get an interview with him for six months now. He's blown us off, put us through to the PR department when he wasn't stonewalling. Why now?"

"I don't know," Perry said. "But the condition is that the interview goes to you and to Clark Kent. The two of you have to come together."

Perry watched, interested, at the wash of emotions crossing Lois' face. Satisfaction at obtaining the interview. Closely-hidden fear – Perry knew that Lois and Lex Luthor had some sort of mutually disagreeable past, their shared work in convicting Lionel Luthor of murder long forgotten. Annoyance at having to work with Clark. Determination to get the story.

"OK, when?" Lois asked.

"Five p.m. today," Perry told her. "You'll be done with the Presidential interview by then?"

Lois looked at her watch. "Yeah. In fact, if I don't leave right now, I'll be late for the interview with the President."

"Oh-kay," Perry said quietly. "Get going, then, Lois. I'll tell Kent about the Luthor interview." He paused for one last set of instructions to Lois. "And find out what they know about this flying guy. _I'd_ sure like to see him myself!"

Lois gave him a distracted wave and headed out, walking briskly

_One last thing to do before my nap, _Perry thought. He grabbed a young messenger. "Get me Kent." He watched as the young man buttonholed Clark right at the door, gesticulating wildly in Perry's direction.

"You wanted to see me, Perry?" Clark poked his head in the office door.

"Yeah, Kent," Perry said gruffly. "Lex Luthor is granting an interview for that story of yours and Lois'. Five p.m. today at the Luthorcorp Building. Be there."

Perry kept an eye on Clark without being obvious about it. As with Lois, the interplay of emotions on Clark's face fascinated him.

Surprise, that Lex Luthor would grant an interview. Then a strange moment of knowledge or realization - -_why? _Perry asked himself. _Does Clark know why Luthor is giving this interview __**now**__? _Then, very quickly, just a flash of fear. Clark reached up an adjusted his glasses, his hand lingering on the hopelessly unfashionable frames. Perry noted with interest that the apprehension turned into determination, with a tinge of satisfaction.

"I'll be ready, Mr. White," Clark said. Concern filled his voice. "Is Lois OK with this?"

"She better be," Perry barked. "This is what you two need to make that story complete. She can handle it."

"Right," Clark agreed quickly. The two men faced each other for a moment.

"Well, what are you standing around about for?" Perry asked, irritably. Definitely time for a nap. "Get out there and find out more about that flying guy!"

Clark looked down. "Right, Perry," he said. Perry couldn't see his face.

"Get going!"

Clark Kent quickly turned on his heel and left the newsroom.

_Thank God, _Perry thought, and turned the office over to his assistant. Then he staggered down to the lounge for six hours of blessed shuteye.

* * *

He threw some water on his face and staggered off the couch like Bigfoot on a bad day. After a cup of coffee, he felt a little more human. Perry headed back up to his office to see what the day had brought.

Growling at those who tried to engage him in conversation, Perry sat down at his desk and read Lois' interview with the President.

"Outstanding, as always," he mumbled to himself. It was too bad, both for Lois and the President, that this flying guy was taking over the news. The President's visit to Metropolis would be below the fold today. Heck, the President was lucky it wasn't on page three.

And Lois….what other reporter would have three front-page worthy stories all at once? The Presidential interview. The flying-man eyewitness account. And the less glamorous, but still important interview with Lex Luthor, an interview that would be the capstone to her years-in-the-making expose of Luthorcorp and its ethically shady business projects. Frankly, Perry expected the Luthorcorp story to have the most long-term effect. At least the Luthorcorp story would be held for the Sunday edition – it wouldn't have to compete with the other two stories.

_Speaking of that…_"Lane! Kent! In my office, now!"

The two reporters trooped dutifully into Perry's office, suppressed excitement on Lois' face, a smooth mask of non-expression on Clark's.

"Where's that Lex Luthor interview, you two?" Perry asked.

"Um, we don't have it," Kent began gingerly.

"What? Lex Luthor offers you two an exclusive interview? An interview you've been trying to get for six months? What'd you do, not show up? Did you have a taxicab breakdown?" Perry huffed. "Please tell me that you have it and you just haven't written it up yet."

"Perry, don't jump all over Clark," Lois scolded. "It's not his fault. It was the weirdest thing, actually…"

"What?" Perry asked.

"Well, Clark and I got to the Luthorcorp building in plenty of time, Perry," Lois said pointedly. "And we got into Lex's office, and he came striding into the room, you know the way he walks when he's trying to impress you."

"It's that billionaire body language thing," Clark murmured.

"And?" Perry asked.

"Well, he came up to us – and Clark, didn't he have the strangest smile on his face – "

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "Kind of a superior-looking grin, even though he has to know that the story we're working on is a killer for him."

"- and then he was shaking my hand and Clark's, and all of a sudden he just fainted." Lois headed for the chair in Perry's office and sat down emphatically.

_"Fainted?"_ Perry asked.

"Yeah, fainted," Lois repeated.

Clark took off his glasses, fiddled with them, opened and closed the earpieces a few times, wiped at the lenses. "We called for his staffers, and they were right there."

"And Lex was back up in a few minutes," Lois added. "But, Perry, when he got up he didn't seem to remember a lot." Cynicism was in her voice.

"Didn't remember a lot?" Perry said carefully.

"Awfully convenient, don't you think?" Lois asked. "That way he can deny knowing about all the stuff we're going to grill him on." She walked over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup of coffee. "It doesn't matter, Perry. The story is well-documented enough that Lex Luthor won't be able to skate out of it this time. The interview was just to give him a chance to respond."

"Lex Luthor claiming amnesia," Perry said wonderingly. "I never thought he was the type." He poured himself some coffee. "You've both met Lex Luthor before. Heck, I've met him before. This just seems out of character for him." He took a sip of coffee. "In fact, Clark, I seem to recall that you knew Lex Luthor very well at one point."

"And he knew me," Clark said quietly. "We became….estranged….some years back."

Perry snorted. "That sounds like a Luthor. Everyone who knows them well eventually becomes _estranged._ But why isn't he playing on your previous acquaintance? Knowing how Lex acts, he'd figure out some way to use that, for sure."

Clark looked down at the glasses in his hands. He gave the lenses one last cleaning, almost in an affectionate manner, thought Perry. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he knows it would be useless to go back to old times, Perry." Clark replaced the thick black frames on his face. "Maybe Lex Luthor really doesn't remember."


	16. Step Nine

_**Step Nine: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. **_

"Lois, this is great stuff," Perry said. "An exclusive interview with – what're you calling him? Superman?" A note of dubiety.

"Perry, I know it's….it's kind of lame," Lois said, responding to the unspoken note of derision in Perry's voice. "But face it, it fits." She shrugged. "I mean, the guy flies, for God's sake! And he's really strong…"

"All right, Lois," Perry said absently, now well into Lois' article. His eyes widened. He drew in his breath and speared Lois with a glance. "He's an _alien?_"

"That's what he said, Chief," Lois replied. "And, given the abilities he's shown already, don't you think it's plausible?"

Perry's hand, holding the article, fell to his thigh. "An alien," he murmured. "An alien."

"He says he's from the planet Krypton," Lois interjected helpfully. She didn't seem as becroggled as Perry was, he noticed. Of course she'd had all night to think about it.

"Krypton? Where the hell is that?" Perry asked rhetorically.

Surprising him, Lois answered. "He gave me some astronomical coordinates. He told me where to look."

Perry turned to her. "And do you know your way around the constellations?"

"Actually, Perry, I do," Lois huffed. "I did take a course in celestial navigation." Sarcastically she added, "Not only that, I can find the Big Dipper."

"Oh," Perry said. He should have figured that Lois would know something about astronomy. So far he hadn't come across a subject that she didn't have at least a passing acquaintance with. "So, where is this Krypton?"

"I, um, actually haven't had time to look it up yet, Perry," Lois said reluctantly.

"Well, get on it! We want it all laid out for the readers. The readers who _haven't_ taken a course in celestial navigation," Perry said pointedly. "Go!" He shooed Lois out of the room.

That was to read the article without her interjecting at every minute. Lois had written a bang-up interview here, and Perry needed to give it his full attention. He read it, then read it through again. If Lois didn't win a Pulitzer for this, Perry would eat his hat. If he had a hat anymore, which he didn't. Heck, he hardly had _hair_ anymore. He finished the article for the second time and spent a moment just staring.

An alien. An _alien. _Humankind wasn't alone in the universe anymore. For just a moment, Perry wondered if Lois felt what he was feeling right now. He'd known it only a few times.

It was right when he'd started the program, and every day was a battle - working the program, fighting, kicking, screaming all the way. And one day the meaning of the AA proverb truly came to him. "It wasn't a victory….it was a surrender." He surrendered to a Higher Power, putting his trust and his faith outside himself. And suddenly he was at peace, with a numinous feeling of joy quivering at the edges of his perception. And the motto, "Happy, Joyous, and Free" suddenly became more than just a sarcastic slogan. It had happened one day and Perry just stared, dumbfounded, at the sudden epiphany.

Maybe Lois hadn't had any bad times like that, or maybe she was just too young, to understand that feeling. (Although Perry wouldn't put anything past Lois. She didn't talk about herself. And she was good at keeping secrets.) But right now Perry felt some of that same carefully taut, yet curiously peaceful excitement. An alien came to Earth, and did good deeds. Unasked for, unhoped for, he swooped down and saved reporters from falling helicopters and cats from trees. Like God's grace, his rescues were unearned, undeserved, yet freely given.

Then he wrenched his mind back to the newspaper. Up to this time the aliens had been the exclusive province of the tabloids. But the presence of this…Superman…meant that Earth had a visitor. From outside. Perry spared a minute to consider what the _Inquisitor _would make of this. No doubt they'd pull out some old covers, dig up some articles, to show that they'd had the scoop on any extraterrestrials from day one. Didn't they have an actual "photograph" of their pet alien shaking hands with the President? He laughed.

The _Planet _would lead the way, blaze the trail on _real _coverage of a _real _alien, not some made-up, Photoshopped person in a rubber suit. He gave the OK for Lois' interview to headline the front page, then looked at his watch. Just enough time to make it to today's Friendly Friday meeting.

* * *

Perry sat across the diner table from Clark Kent. Kent hadn't attended the last few meetings of the Friendly Friday group, but made it today. Perry was suddenly glad to see him there, and by mutual agreement they'd gone out for coffee after the meeting.

"What's up, Perry?" Clark said as a small-talk conversational opener.

"Lois wrote a great article on her interview with this…Superman guy," Perry said, getting right to the meat of what was bothering him.

"What'd she say?" Kent asked intently. No surprise that Lois had gotten an interview with Superman, Perry noted. Lois must have told him already. That made sense – they were semi-partners. Perry was still a little surprised. Lois had the habit of keeping big scoops to herself until the story had been turned in to Perry or the assistant editor. Usually Perry.

"It's big stuff, Clark," Perry said. "This guy, who she's now calling Superman, by the way –" the two men looked at each other and smiled "- says he's an alien."

Clark became very still. "An alien?" he repeated. "Like a UFO-type alien? I'm assuming he's not an alien from say, Bulgaria."

"An extraterrestrial alien," Perry confirmed.

"Do you think it's true?" Clark asked curiously. He seemed intent on Perry's answer, holding the other man's eyes.

"Well, it certainly answers a lot of questions about him," Perry said. "I mean, obviously no human could do the things he's shown himself able to do. Flying, picking up helicopters…" Perry took a sip of coffee, conscious of Clark's steady gaze. "If it's true, which, knowing Lois, it probably is, it changes everything."

"Gosh, I don't know how you'd go about fact-checking something like that," Clark said, apropos of nothing.

"Lois is reporting on what the guy told her," Perry said irritably. That had been worrying him too – how could you check on this Krypton place? He said to Clark, "Sure, this guy gave some astronomical coordinates and the science geeks are going to be wetting their pants in their eagerness to turn the telescopes there, but, come on, that doesn't help us with getting the newspaper out tomorrow morning." He took a cup of coffee and said decisively, "We'll report it as hearsay – what this guy told Lois. We'll get what confirmation we can from the astronomy guys."

"Don't you wonder how much confirmation they'll be able to give?" Clark asked. "I mean, this guy said he was from another _galaxy_. I don't think they can see actual planets that far away."

"How'd you know that?" Perry asked, curious. It had been in Lois' article, but had Clark read the article? He didn't think Lois had given Clark a copy.

"Oh, Lois mentioned it," Clark said, looking away.

"Whatever," Perry said, dismissing it. "But, Clark…"

"What?"

"If this guy, this…_Superman_, is really from another planet, this changes everything."

"Why?" Clark asked curiously.

"Don't you see?" Perry tried to get across his sense of wonder to the gawky reporter across the booth. "For millennia, man has looked up at the stars and wondered. What's out there? And now, there's somebody from out there. Not from our planet. We've had so many differences, fought about so many things, things that seem trivial now. I mean, what does an alien care about national boundaries? Or different tribes, or factions?" He restlessly stirred his coffee. "If I were an alien, I'd just look at Earth as one planet." He dumped another package of sweetener into his coffee, took a sip. "And now we on Earth have to act like one planet, too. I mean, it's going to change the way we think."

"That's, um, interesting, Perry," Kent said. _He could make the Second Coming of Christ sound dull, _Perry thought uncharitably. That was unfair, he told himself on second thought. The way Kent wrote, he couldn't be _that_ boring.

"Well, if you're not into one-world stuff, Clark," Perry said shortly, "think about this. What about this guy? What's his motivation? All we know is what he said to Lois. He says he's from another planet and that he's here to help. Why?"

"Um…good karma?" Clark offered.

Perry snorted. "Clark, everyone has an agenda. I think you've been in the reporting business long enough to know that. How often do you see someone doing something just out of the goodness of their heart?"

"Well…." Clark said. He defended his position. "There's a lot of charity that goes unreported, you know, Perry. The stuff we don't publish because it's not newsworthy."

"Yeah. No denying that," Perry said shortly. "But how much of that is for tax write-offs? Or to buy good PR? Clark, you know and I know that true altruism is a rare bird in this world."

Clark smiled. "But you said yourself, Superman _is_ out of this world."

Perry had to laugh. "Well, maybe." He took another sip of rapidly cooling coffee. "I guess I've watched too many Grade B sci-fi movies. I keep expecting the invading alien army to be following on this guy's footsteps. Have everyone lined up for slavery in the Andromeda galaxy or something."

Clark looked queasy. "You really think he'd do something like that?" he asked.

"I don't know," Perry continued. "_We _don't know. We don't know anything about him, except what he's told Lois." He stirred his coffee again absently. "Hey, to make you really paranoid – remember that _Twilight Zone _episode where the aliens came, and their mission statement was this handbook called, 'To Serve Man'?"

Clark gulped. "Yeah. It was a cookbook." He took a sip of coffee in turn. "Those _Twilight Zones_ had some twist endings, didn't they?"

Perry nodded. "So, Clark, maybe I'm paranoid. But what if this guy _is _the forerunner of the alien invasion? I mean, with the powers he's shown so far, we wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him, or them. I've heard from sources off the record that a couple of people have shot at this guy and the bullets just bounce right off."

"What?" Clark asked. "Come on, Perry," he said in a disbelieving tone.

"That's what my sources have said," Perry said stubbornly. "This guy is bulletproof."

Clark raised his eyebrows and nodded skeptically. "Right."

"Really!" Perry persisted. The two broke gazes, drank coffee. Silence for a moment.

"Maybe you're not giving this Superman a chance," Clark said slowly, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.

Perry shot him a sharp glance. "What do you mean?"

"Well, assuming that no Imperial Stormtroopers or waves of attacking droids land for the alien invasion in the next week or so," Clark began teasingly, "maybe you should just look at what he's done so far."

Perry nodded. "He kept the President's plane from crashing, he saved some cops from getting shot, he put out a fire, he stopped a bunch of burglars, he even got some kid's cat out of a tree. He's been quite a busy little beaver, Clark."

"And he saved Lois. Don't forget that," Clark said.

"And he saved Lois," Perry said heavily. "I'm grateful to him for that. She was in a fix there, and no mistake."

"So, if this guy says he's here to help, and so far that's all he's done, maybe we owe him the benefit of the doubt." Clark made a positive statement.

Perry looked at him for a long moment. "Cynical newsman that I am, I'm always looking for the worst. And usually I find it. But maybe you're right, Clark." He gave Clark a wan smile. "Alien or whatever, this guy has helped us. So far."

"He has only…helped," Clark replied.

"And we do owe him. I mean, if the _Daily Planet _had lost Lois, it would have been….a bad day."

"Very bad," Clark agreed.

Perry sat straighter. "So I think that the _Planet _editorial will be about giving this….Superman the benefit of the doubt."

"Not on the invading alien armies?" Clark chuckled.

"I think we'll leave the paranoia up to the professionals at the Pentagon," Perry replied. "Right now, the _Planet _will focus on the awe and wonder of having proof of alien presence here on Earth. And on how this guy says he's here to help." He finished his coffee. "Ready?"

Clark polished off his own cup. "Yeah."

Perry paid the bill, and as the two of them walked back to the _Planet _building, he said, "Clark, you're a pretty good reporter. See if you can get Lois to introduce you to this Superman guy. I want you to look into him." Perry's reportorial instincts came to the fore. "Can you find his agenda? What does he want? Why is he here? He seems too good to be true – is he? Find the dirt! Everybody's got some!"

Clark swallowed. "OK, Perry, I'll do what I can."

Perry became more serious. "I want the story, Clark, but don't…do anything stupid. I mean, with what this guy can do...We don't know how he'll react to probing questions. If he takes offense to you...don't get him mad. I don't want to lose a reporter."

Clark smiled. "I'll put on my best behavior. I think I'll be OK, Perry."

The two walked back into the _Daily Planet. _


	17. Step Ten

_Author's note: This section references events in the movie "Superman"._

_**Step Ten: Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong promptly admitted it. **_

"Lois!" Perry called.

"Coming, Chief!" she said.

"Don't call me Chief," Perry replied automatically. But by now he'd gotten used to it, and the reporters on the floor called him "Chief" with respect. His protests were only pro forma now.

Lois entered his office. "What is it, Perry?"

"What's the latest on Superman?"

"Not much lately, Perry," Lois said. "It's been kind of a slow news week." A tiny smile teased her lips.

"You got that great interview – " Perry started.

"Which you put that stupid headline on!" Lois snapped. "Come on! "I Spent The Night With Superman"?" It sounds like I slept with the guy or something!"

"It's all in selling the sizzle, not the steak," Perry said automatically, not regretting the headline. It had sold a boatload of papers that day.

"Well, the interview was the steak, and it was a good one!" Lois said, almost angrily.

"Yes. It was a good interview," Perry agreed. "It was a great interview."

Lois calmed down.

"And now I want to know if you can get another one," Perry said.

"I'll try, but it's really up to him, not to me." Lois looked away, fiddled with her watch. "You know that, Perry. I don't even know how to get in contact with him."

A knock at the open door, and Perry and Lois looked up to see Clark Kent standing there.

"Um, I couldn't help overhearing," Clark said diffidently.

"What, Kent?" Perry snapped.

"Well, um, Superman did get in contact with me," Clark turned to Lois, nodding at her. "Thanks to Lois' recommendation, or introduction, or whatever."

Lois raised her eyebrows.

"And?" Perry asked.

Clark stammered. "And he said that he wants to visit the _Daily Planet_."

"What?" Perry and Lois said together.

"He said he was grateful for the editorial, and the way the _Planet _has led the way in welcoming him to Earth," the tall reporter blurted. "He wanted to extend his thanks in person."

Perry stared, speechless. Then his mind began working again. "Well, he's certainly welcome," the editor said. His mind raced. _Maybe I can get an interview with him directly. Maybe we can get some video out of this. Can we get an endorsement out of him? _Heck, Superman owed them. It was the _Planet _that had almost single-handedly shaped the force of public opinion from the hysterical near-paranoia and alarm of the first days, to the growing respect and admiration that people now associated with Superman. Of course, Superman had helped with that by performing good deeds right and left.

"Do we have to print an invitation?" Perry asked absently. "When would be a good time for him to come?" His thoughts raced.

"Um, I think I can just tell him you said it was OK, or Lois can, whichever of us he contacts first," Kent replied. "I don't think you need to print anything about this. I kind of got the impression that he wanted it to be sort of private, not a photo op."

"Yeah, he does seem a little camera-shy, doesn't he?" Lois interjected thoughtfully. "Too bad for him there's no way to avoid the video these days."

"Uh, yes," Clark agreed.

Perry strode forward, slapped Clark on the back. "If you see him, tell him he's welcome. Lois, you too. We'll show him how a major metropolitan newspaper works." He stood back, lowered his hand. "Maybe you can find out when he wants to come – we could get something ready…." His voice trailed off.

Clark shrugged.

"OK, he can come anytime," Perry said. He fixed a gimlet eye on the two reporters. "Don't you two have something to do? Go out there and contact Superman! And if you can't, get me some good stories!"

Lois and Clark left his office. Perry watched for a moment. Clark turned to Lois, said something. Lois snapped out a reply, turned away. Clark looked depressed.

"I guess he was asking her out again," Perry murmured to himself. He saw that Clark still carried a torch for Lois, and she still didn't have the time of day for him. It was still all business with her. It made him glad that he'd finally proposed to Alice, and she'd said Yes. A little shiver of happiness went through him each time he remembered that.

"Get to it, Clark," Perry muttered again. And he saw Kent head down the newsroom, stopping at almost every desk, greeting each reporter, making a brief exchange of comments with the interns and gofers, until finally the tall man exited out the bullpen door.

* * *

Superman didn't waste time. The very next day, Perry sat in his office, reading and grumbling over a memo on cuts in expense accounts that the suits upstairs had sent down. He caught a flash of blue and red out of the corner of his eye and looked up.

There, at the door to his newsroom, stood Superman. Startled silence spread over the news floor as people gradually realized who – or _what _– had appeared before them. Within seconds, the usual clangor of the _Planet _fell into a shocked hush, leaving only the muted sounds of the television monitors showing the twenty-four hour news channels.

Perry got up and hurried to greet – _the man?_ _Is he a man? Well, he's certainly not human, but he __**is **__a man, _Perry thought. He overcame the slight weakness in his knees – making First Contact with an alien was something that Perry had never, in his wildest imagination, ever thought he would do. Strangely enough, the skintight costume that had looked so garish on the news assumed a new significance now that Perry saw it in person. The sheer _presence_ of its wearer imbued it with symbolism. Superman had already made the suit, and its associated crest, a sign of hope.

The spandex-clad figure glanced around the silent newsroom with apparent equanimity. But Perry saw…something…in the tall man's demeanor that made him think that Superman was as nervous as himself. And there was an eerie familiarity about the figure – Perry chewed on that, worried on it as he walked quickly to the man. But the more he chased the thought, the farther away it got, and Perry let it go.

"Superman!" He held out his hand, wondering if the alien knew the custom of shaking hands. "Welcome to the _Daily Planet!_" Reporters, interns, gofers, messengers – a hundred pairs of eyes watched closely, the electrical tension in the room overwhelming.

"Thank you, Mr. White," Superman said in a deep baritone. He took Perry's hand and shook it firmly. "I am grateful for your invitation." A muffled sigh traveled over the room, as the staring witnesses processed the interaction. "The _Daily Planet _has been a friend to me, and I would like to show my appreciation personally."

"The pleasure is ours, Superman," Perry said loudly. He looked at the piercing blue eyes of his companion, eyes which had a slight tinge of restrained panic. Panic? Perry took a deep breath, and suddenly felt a suppressed laugh bubble through him. Superman didn't know what to do next – Perry could tell. He'd made his statement, and he was metaphorically putting himself in Perry's hands. The sheer absurdity of the situation took away Perry's nervousness. He almost laughed out loud.

"Let me introduce you to the _Daily Planet _staff, Superman," Perry continued. A rustling from the desks, a susurrus of whispers from the reporters.

Perry started at the nearest desk. "Harold Newhauser, Homestyle section." Henry stared wildly back and forth at the sight of the blue-clad alien and his editor advancing on him. He stood up nervously.

"Mr. Newhauser. A pleasure," Superman said, extending his hand. Henry automatically extended his own. "I found your article on home repair pitfalls very interesting."

Henry nodded mechanically.

Perry moved them onward. "Jacob Morris, Homestyle."

"Mr. Morris," Superman continued. ""Don't you write the Handyman column?"

"Um, yes," the reporter choked out, as he shook Superman's hand. He stared at Perry and his companion as they moved on to the next desk.

"Michele Cabrera, Homestyle," Perry said.

"Hello, Ms. Cabrera," Superman said. "I enjoyed your recent series on home decorating and color selection."

The petite reporter blushed. She seemed too overwhelmed to speak.

Perry and the blue-clad Superman continued down the bullpen, greeting each reporter. Superman had something personal to say to everyone he met, proving to Perry that the alien read their paper, or had for at least for the past two weeks, from first page to last. Frankly, Perry was impressed. He knew their work because he was their editor, but he was willing to bet that no one else, including these very reporters, could have named an article or column that every other _Planet _reporter had written. And yet Superman had done that.

"Cat Grant, society column," Perry put his ruminations aside.

"Hello, Superman!" Cat said, slinking up to the tall alien and hugging him. The newsroom gasped collectively. Superman looked embarrassed. He gently extricated himself.

"You look familiar, Superman," Cat said teasingly. "Have we met before?" Trust Cat to take the lead in the conversation and to make a flirtation out of it, Perry thought. Heck, she'd flirt with anything male.

"Uh, um…." Superman seemed flustered.

"Considering he's only been on Earth for about three weeks, probably not, Cat," Perry interjected. Superman shot him a relieved glance.

"A pleasure, Ms Grant," Superman said, shuffling backward.

As the two men proceeded down the aisle, the stunned silence gradually gave way to muffled conversation as the _Planet _staff became accustomed to the presence of the local celebrity. All present continued to stare at Superman. Jimmy Olsen grabbed the opportunity and began snapping photos of Superman with each person he greeted. At the first flash, Perry caught a tiny sigh from the Man of Steel, but Superman gamely posed, smiling with each handshake, each greeting.

They got closer to Perry's office. Perry saved his best for last. "Lois Lane, Superman."

"I have already had the pleasure of meeting Ms Lane," Superman intoned, a smile on his lips. Perry looked carefully at the alien. This smile was different from the practiced social smiles that Superman had given as he greeted the _Planet _reporters. This smile seemed more real.

"Um, likewise," Lois stammered. Perry shot a glance at her. Her smile was real, too, and the two had locked gazes to the exclusion of all else. _Hmm…_Perry thought.

"I'd like to thank you, Ms Lane, for the excellent job you did on the interview," Superman said, smiling broadly.

"A pleasure," Lois breathed, staring at him.

Perry cleared his throat.

Superman, startled, looked at him.

"There you have it, Superman," Perry said loudly. "The _Daily Planet_. The best reporters and staff in Metropolis – and in the world."

"Is that all of them?" Superman asked curiously.

"Well, no," Perry admitted more quietly. "Mitch and a bunch of guys from Sports are at the games today, and Clark Kent is out on a story, and Alex Harris and John Howes are at the Electronics Expo, and…well, I don't think there's a time you _could _come here where everyone is in the newsroom, Superman."

"I'm sorry to miss anyone," Superman said. He raised his voice. "Thank you, Mr. White." He pitched his voice to gain everyone's attention. "Thank you, one and all. As I said, I'm grateful to the _Daily Planet _for its consideration. Be assured that the _Planet _will get the first opportunity at Superman news, as much as possible."

The newsroom burst into stunned murmuring. Perry drew in his breath in shock. Did that mean…?

"We appreciate your consideration, Superman," Perry said loudly.

"Thank you once again, Mr. White," Superman said formally. "And now I must go." He shook Perry's hand one last time. He straightened, and Perry found himself following Superman's gaze toward Lois, who hadn't moved since Perry interrupted their conversation. "A pleasure."

Perry felt a small gust of wind and blinked. Superman was gone. The newsroom burst into chatter, work forgotten in the excitement of the extraterrestrial visitation. Perry smiled. There'd be water cooler talk for weeks after this, he figured.

He checked the clock. Time to go. He made his good-byes, turning the newsroom over the assistant editors. A short time later, he entered his home.

"Honey! I'm home!" he couldn't resist calling.

Alice came. As ever, her face made Perry smile. They leaned together for a kiss – a kiss still tinged with passion. Perry never regretted getting back together with Alice – he only regretted the years he'd spent in an alcoholic stupor.

"How was work today, honey?" Alice replied, deliberately playing up to his "fifties sitcom family" lines. Perry loved the way she always got his jokes.

"The usual. Corrected grammar, bawled out some reporters, fought with the suits upstairs about expenses again." He gave Alice a wicked smile. "And got an office visit from Superman."

"That's nice, dear," Alice said evenly, her wide grin belying her tone, still playing Susie Homemaker. As if it was no big deal to meet Superman. Or to have Superman come to the _Planet. _Sure, alien visitations happened every day! She continued in her bright voice, "We've got pot roast for dinner tonight."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.


	18. Step Eleven, Part One

_Author's note: This section references events, and uses dialogue, from the movies "Superman II" and "Superman II: The Donner Cut." _

_**Step Eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God **__**as we understood Him**__**, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. **_

Perry roared, laughing so hard he whooped for breath. He usually took a few minutes at the beginning of the day to read a meditation and consider it. It helped him realize his priorities for the day, helped him work the program, be honest, maintain his sobriety. And frequently he read another meditation at other times, especially when the chaos of the _Planet _called for a moment's thought.

But this time, he was reading something a little different. A friend of his had recommended "Seasons In Hell", by Mike Shropshire, a memoir of the author's three years as a baseball beat writer for the Texas Rangers from 1973 to 1975.

The author had conceded that in those years, "I was something of a drinking man", and the story he wrote made Perry agree with the cover blurb: _"The Single Funniest Sports Book I Have Ever Read." _

Right now Perry roared over Chapter Eight. The author wrote in the first person:

_(On an airplane flight with the Texas Rangers team) I was scanning the current issue of Reader's Digest and happened upon a feature headlined, "Are You An Alcoholic?" To find out, the reader was requested to answer twenty simple questions "Yes" or "No."_

_Well, I knew what an alcoholic was, but decided to take the quiz anyway. I assure you I am loosely paraphrasing the actual text of the Reader's Digest article. _

_**Q 1. Do you ever consume more than two drinks in the span of one month?**_

_**Q 2. Have you ever consumed more than two drinks in one day?**_

_**Q 3. Do you sometimes feel the need to drink in order to enhance your enjoyment of certain social occasions?**_

_**Q 4. Have you ever had so much to drink that you cannot entirely remember events of the night before on the morning after?**_

_**Q 5. Do you ever vary the types of alcoholic beverages you consume at social occasions?**__ By that, I guessed they meant normal drinking patterns where you switch from beer to wine to gin to rye to Clorox bleach or any other damn thing you can get your hands on when you're the only one still left at the party and the supplies are getting short. _

_Some quiz, I thought. How many of these Reader's Digest magazines do they sell in a month? A billion? Why do they think they have to win over the Hare Krishnas, too? _

_Then, whoever concocted the quiz turned up the volume a little. The questions became more realistic as the thing went along. I don't remember all the questions word for word, but the last ones went something like this:_

_**Q 15: Do all the girls look prettier at closing time?**__ (Yes, but the boys don't, thank God.)_

_**Q 16: Do you ever hide alcohol?**__ (Ha! My first 'no.' Hide my booze? Why the hell should I? A man's home is his castle.)_

_**Q 17. Have you ever had grotesque or terrifying hallucinations, like you're being attacked by a giant flying lizard?**_

_**Q 18. Have you, after having too much to drink, shaved your head or painted your genitals purple?**_

_**Q 19. Have you ever passed out while smoking in bed but didn't set anything on fire because you'd pissed all over the mattress? **_

_**Q 20. Have you ever driven your car over Niagara Falls?**_

_What a snap. Five "no's". I hollered to the stewardess –this was before the politically correct "flight attendant" – to bring me two or three more of those miniature liquor bottles while I turned the page and received some very interesting news. The test person said that if you registered even one "yes" then you were a big-time alkie. "Head to the nearest county hospital, if you can manage to get your car key into the ignition, and check into detox right away, because, brother, you are fuked up." _

_Or words to that effect. What a revelation! Not only was I an alcoholic, but according to the standards of Reader's Digest, so was everyone seated on that airplane. So was everyone in the last eight generations of my family, and in fact, every human being I had encountered since grade school. _

_Most of my more pragmatic social companions and working associates by far had chosen to avoid AA and instead join AAA, an organization that will tow your car out of a ditch in the predawn hours. As the plane drifted into its final approach, I watched while most of the ballplayers began stuffing the little airline booze bottles into barf bags so that relief supplies would be available on the bus ride from the airport to the hotel. How dare Reader's Digest suggest that these professional athletes couldn't control their drinking activities. _

_Having pondered the overall content of the quiz, my initial impulse was to head to the nearest pay phone when the plane landed, call whoever it was that devised that quiz, and propose that he do what I had done and sign on with this…this roving airborne madness for thirty days, after which time, I wager, he himself would become the first person ever to score a perfect 20-for-20 in the "yes" column. _

_The reality was that at age thirty-one I realized my drinking easily exceeded the accepted norms of the general population and ranked me in the top half of my class within the ranks of working print journalists. Only after entering this association with the Texas Rangers baseball team had I found a work-and-social grouping in which my personal consumption fell at mid-range. After extensive observation, the conclusion was that I drank more than the infielders but not as much as the pitchers. _

Perry leaned over, laughing his head off. He'd been there. And thank God, he was out of there.

Later on, Perry realized it was a good thing he'd laughed so hard that morning. When he heard the news about the three aliens who landed – _they must be Kryptonian, they have the same powers as Superman. Uh-oh – they don't plan on using their powers to __**help **_ – he didn't laugh again for quite some time.

* * *

"No, no! There's three of them!" Perry said vehemently. "That cockamamie general, and a big truck with hair on it, and a broad that looks like the queen of the runway!"

He'd been following the news all day, seeing all that the human race could do against the invaders dealt with as easily as a man could swat a fly. Despite the cold tinge in his stomach, Perry vowed that the _Daily Planet _would cover the story. If the story was the conquest of Earth, well, too bad, but _Planet _reporters would write it.

He paced back and forth in his office, Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane behind him. "Anything Superman can do, they can do!" Perry expostulated. He grabbed a cup of coffee from a passing gofer. "Where _is_ he, anyway?"

"Maybe he hasn't heard about it yet, Chief," Jimmy offered. Lois remained uncharacteristically silent.

Perry headed for his desk chair.

"Maybe – " Jimmy went on.

Perry interrupted. "Maybe he's just run out of guts." He never thought he'd say such a thing about Superman, but where _was _Big Blue? Superman had come before at the least disaster. Heck, he'd even rescued cats from trees! Now, when he might be faced with something that might work up a sweat, Superman was missing. Perry hated to think that the Man of Steel might be a coward. Turning to Jimmy, he snarled, "And don't call me Chief!"

"Look, he'll be here," Lois said intently. She seemed miserable, Perry thought, but he had no time to spare for winkling the details of whatever it was out of her. "If there's any way at all, he'll be here."

Perry went to reply but sat down as tremors shook the building. _Earthquakes? Metropolis isn't in a fault zone. _

As if channeling Perry's thoughts, Jimmy blurted out, "Sounds like an earthquake."

Perry's office door blew off its hinges. Smoke and dust obscured the sight of fleeing _Planet _staffers in the newsroom. Perry could hear their frightened screams all too clearly, though.

Perry's eyes widened as he saw the being who he had recently described as "a big truck with hair on it". It was the Kryptonian – Non? His name was?

Whatever his name, right at this moment, the alien was casually breaking the glass windows of Perry's office with his fists. The flying glass did no damage, but Perry saw Jimmy bleeding from a small cut gotten before the young photographer had taken cover.

"It's those three!" Perry found himself saying. In the background, he could hear his staff shouting. _"Stop!" "Oh my God, they're here now!" "Oh no!" _His knees trembled as the other two Kryptonians stepped through the ruins of the door.

The woman – Ursa, she had been called on the TV news – did indeed have the body of a supermodel. The black leather outfit, in other circumstances, might have been alluring. But the flat cruelty in her eyes ruined the ensemble.

And the other man – smaller than the hulking behemoth, but much more dangerous. The lack of expression on his face didn't hide the light of insanity in his eyes. Perry could see that right off. He'd seen world leaders kneeling before this man. _"Kneel before Zod," _the man had said. And so far, everyone had. That is, everyone who was still alive. Those who hadn't were dead.

The click of a shutter broke Perry out of his reverie. That kid, Olsen, showing a suicidal drive, was snapping picture after picture of the three rogue Kryptonians. Perry sat down at his desk chair in disbelief. Some fools attempted to tackle Non. The giant, still not speaking, threw them easily aside, then followed up by throwing Perry's file cabinet through one of the few remaining unbroken glass walls. Perry shrank back in his chair at the display. He wasn't the only one – Lois and Jimmy hid in a corner.

Suddenly angry at the desecration of his newsroom, and worried about his people, Perry fought back. In a gesture that surprised even himself, he reached for a metallic globe that sat on his desk, and threw it at Non. It bounced off Non's head, doing no damage. Non grimaced, and hammered his fist in one heavy blow on Perry's desk. The desk split in two.

The hulking behemoth advanced toward Perry. Perry's life flashed in front of his eyes – he'd always wondered if that really happened, and now he could testify that it did. Strangely enough, his primary emotion was regret. Regret that he'd missed so many opportunities, missed so many times to tell the people that he loved that he loved them. Perry cowered back as the giant advanced on him and grabbed him by the neck.

He saw stars as his head hit the ceiling. And then, nothing.

A few minutes must have passed, because he found himself on the floor. Lois had his head in her lap, asking urgently, "You all right, Chief?"

Perry could make no answer. His head lolled.

Through his daze he heard a voice he remembered well, although he hadn't heard it for years. You did tend to remember the people that personally threatened to kill you.

"Hi," said Lex Luthor. He looked around at the destruction. Bending over and speaking in a faux-concerned tone, he said, "You should see the White House. They'll be cleaning for _months."_

Understanding swept across Lois' face. "Lex Luthor," she said evenly.

Jimmy chimed in, as usual. "Wouldn't you know it!" Then he squeaked as Non picked him up by the neck.

For the first time, Perry heard Zod speak. The voice sent chills down his spine. It was a voice of reason, a voice who could order thirty men killed before dawn and then eat blood sausage for breakfast without a qualm.

"_This _is the son of Jor-El?" the voice said, incredulously.

"No, but I bet you're a son of a –" Jimmy managed to get out a breathless defiance.

Lois overrode what would have been the photographer's final words. "Jimmy!" she said.

Zod paid no attention to his minion holding the writhing Jimmy. He turned to Lex Luthor and said, dangerously, "You promised me the son of Jor-El!"

Lex kept his sang-froid. "Yes, your grace," he said obsequiously. Perry, still dazed – _but improving! _– detected not-so-subtle mockery. Lex had better hope that Zod didn't pick up on it, thought Perry. Megalomaniac dictators didn't take well to mocking.

Lex went on. "But what I've given you is the next best thing." He pointed to Lois. She looked up from ministering to Perry and paled as Lex said, "You just hold on to that little lady and he'll be along."

A note of triumph in Lex's voice. "You see, they have this relationship. She does all his public relations, and he gives her every exclusive. They're the best of friends." A coarse snigger. "You know what I mean?"

Lois' face closed in. Then anger overtook her as Ursa said, "What an undemanding male this Superman must be."

With the spunk Perry adored, Lois retorted, "You could use a tuck here and there yourself, sister!" Perry squirmed. _Lois, don't provoke them – don't get hurt. I couldn't bear to see you killed._

Ursa advanced on Lois. Lois let Perry's head drop to the floor with a thump. Perry moaned at the jolt of pain. It looked like a catfight was going to happen right here and it wouldn't be good for Lois.

"Wait!" Perry had never been happier to hear the voice of the intergalactic megalomaniac evil dictator. Ursa stopped at Zod's command.

Casually, Zod nodded towards Lois. "She lives, for now," he told his henchmen. Then he cast a disapproving eye at the other inhabitants of the office. With an air of someone disposing of the trash, he said, "Kill the rest, starting with him."

Perry felt a momentary burst of satisfaction that it would be Lex Luthor who would go first. He'd finally get to see Lex Luthor defeated.

But with the quick tongue and sharp mind that had kept Luthor free all these years, despite being a fugitive from justice, Lex said, "Wait! Wait! Wait, wait wait wait!"

Perry almost laughed to see Lex Luthor scuttling for cover.

"Don't you remember the White House?" Lex said ingratiatingly. "The Oval Room? We had a few laughs there."

Non growled. He wasn't much for talking, thought Perry. Of course, right now, neither was Perry. Getting hit on the head didn't do much for his verbal skills.

Lex made a dig. Indicating Non, he said to Zod, "You ought to have that fixed."

A cheerful voice called from the window. Perry looked – it wasn't the window to the newsroom. It was the outside window.

"General, haven't you heard of freedom of the press!"

Lois's cry of "Superman!" echoed Perry's whisper. Relief coursed through him. Big Blue was here. And, with sardonic amusement, Perry saw Lex rub his forehead and mutter, "Superman! Thank God!" It seemed that even Lex Luthor knew when he was in bed with a rabid wolverine.

Zod shot Lex a sharp glance.

"I mean, get him!" Lex recovered.

"Come to me, son of Jor-El!" Zod said. Perry shivered at the hate in the voice. "Kneel before Zod!"

_I don't think so, _Perry thought. Heavens, he was happy that the general's attention was on Superman and not himself anymore. He'd seen the lack of concern in the Kryptonians' eyes. He was nobody, nothing, an annoyance, a bug to be squashed, a fly to be swatted. And they could do it. They would do it. They _would _have done it, if it weren't for Superman.

Superman flew away. The three rogue Kryptonians levitated and followed him, exiting via the outside window. Shakily, Perry levered himself to his feet and stood at the window along with Lois and Jimmy.

They could see only part of what must be a super-powered battle. Based on the destruction Perry could see, Metropolis would need a major cleanup after this.

He heard Lex Luthor whisper behind him, "I never thought this thing would go the distance."

What, Perry thought. Had Lex been anticipating Superman's quick death? Obviously he didn't know the Man of Steel well. Perry had met Superman a few times, and had taken his measure automatically, the ability to assess character earned after years of dealing with people. Superman was not the kind of man who would back down, Perry knew. Superman would hang on, would hold out, wouldn't give in.

That's why Perry's gut dropped when he saw Superman turn tail and run away from Metropolis.

He turned to Lois. She looked aghast. From the newsroom, Perry could hear voices of the staffers who hadn't run or been knocked unconscious. _"You can't leave us! Come back, Superman!"_

Perry turned his stunned face back to Lois and Jimmy. Their pallor matched his.

Like flying ghouls, the three Kryptonians swooped back into Perry's office. _They've run off Superman, _he thought numbly.

Lex waved nonchalantly from his seat on the file cabinet in the corner.

Zod spoke in that pontificating tone that Perry was coming to hate. No, correction - he already hated it. "Our victory is complete. The son of Jor-El has fled."

"Superman, fled?" Jimmy said disbelievingly.

"I don't believe you," Perry said stoutly, maintaining the façade. He stood up and faced the three invaders. Lois peeked up from where she hid behind the wreckage of Perry's desk.

Lex distracted Zod from Perry's defiant attitude. "You heard him," Lex said sweetly (and mockingly) to the alien. "Three against one. You should have taken both ears and the tail."

"He fled in fear of us!" Zod said in the tone of one who was trying to convince himself.

"He'll be back," Lois said firmly. "As long as he's alive, he's going to try again."

Zod stared Lois in the face. "The next time, we will kill him."

Lex gave a snort of disgust. Perry was wondering whose side he was actually on. Of course, he was a Luthor, so that meant he was only on his own side. "The next time? _The next time?_" Lex shook his head. "I held up my end. I delivered you the blue boy. What do I get from my triple threat? 'Bow.' 'Yield.' 'Kneel.' That kind of stuff closes out a town."

Zod said in a tone of incredulity, "Why do you say this to me when you know I will kill you for it?"

Lex puffed himself up. "Kill me? Lex Luthor? Extinguish the greatest criminal flame of our age?" He was quite good at the impassioned declarations, Perry thought sourly. "Eradicate the only man on Earth with – "

Ursa echoed Perry's thoughts. "Let me kill him!"

" – Superman's address?" Lex finished.

Silence. Perry looked at Lois. If she was pale before, she was downright ashen now.

"What more do you want?" Zod asked Lex. "I can see the greed written on your face." Perry almost had to laugh. Maybe Lex Luthor _was_ the greatest criminal mind of our age. He certainly was manipulating Zod like a master.

"A small incentive, O Fullest One," Lex said, again with that obsequious mockery. "A mere bauble to jog the memory." He laughed.

"What now?" Zod asked. Down to brass tacks now, thought Perry. Zod's enforcer growled and Lex's eyes automatically went to the brutish Non.

"Cuba," Lex said sweetly.

"Done!" said Zod. "Ursa will carry you. You will guide us." He cast his eye around the room, ignoring queasy Perry and shaking Jimmy. "We will take his woman."

Non advanced upon Lois. Perry gasped. "No!" he shouted. Lois cowered back as the giant took hold of her. Perry began advancing on the pair, knowing as he did that it was futile. If only he had Superman's powers! If only Superman were here! But he wasn't. And now Lois' only hope was her middle-aged editor.

Another casual swat of Non's arm, and Perry fell back against his desk. Despair coursed through him as he lost consciousness once more.

When he came to, Lois was gone.


	19. Step Eleven, Part Two

_Author's note: This section references events in the movies "Superman II" and "Superman II – The Donner Cut". The last bit of this section is a set-up for the movie "Superman Returns". _

Perry sat down, exhausted. He faced a newsroom in a shambles, but now it was an organized shambles. After the rogue Kryptonians and Lex Luthor had stormed in and out looking for Superman, the _Daily Planet_ newsroom was a mess. Tipped-over desks, destroyed computer monitors, and paper strewn everywhere were a travesty of the normally controlled chaos necessary to putting out a paper. That wasn't even counting the broken windows and destroyed masonry – the structural damage done by super-powered aliens with more strength than mercy.

After the Kryptonians left to follow Superman (_wherever it was he went, _thought Perry) he'd forced himself up. Ignoring his throbbing headache, Perry took control of the frightened reporters, interns, gofers, and staff. Several hours of sharply barked orders, plaintive cajoling, and stepping in himself had whipped the newsroom back into shape.

Yeah, his office walls were still destroyed, the windows were still broken, and the Art Deco masonry of the exterior wall still sported a large hole, but Perry had managed to get the newspaper up and functioning again. They would be able to put out a morning edition.

Now it was late. Almost everyone had gone home; only Tom, the newest assistant editor, stood by at the other end of the newsroom to handle any emergencies. Perry sat down wearily on the couch in his office, trying to ignore his numerous aches. Getting thrown against the wall and losing consciousness was no picnic at his age. He'd already decided to spend a few more hours here, until the day shift came, and then head home and collapse into a jelly.

Right he couldn't relax. One major source of worry was allayed – the _Planet _would publish tomorrow, no, _this_ morning. But another worry grew larger as time went by. He'd tried to put it out of his mind, and the work had helped. But now that he had time to think, he was almost frantic.

Where was Lois Lane?

The last time Perry saw her, she had been swept up by the large behemoth _(Non, his name was, I think) _of the rogue Kryptonian group. Her fists pounding on Non's chest made no difference to his stolidity. Then Lois was gone, forcibly taken by the super-powered aliens.

Perry had managed to keep from thinking the worst by staying busy. But now, with the chaos in the _Planet _under control, and no subordinates present to keep a brave façade in front of, awful scenarios came to mind.

Would they kill Lois? Certainly the leader, Zod, was crazy enough to do so. He wouldn't think twice about it. Perry had seen the cool insanity in his eyes and had shivered back from it. And the woman, Ursa – Lois had slugged her. It hadn't done any good, of course, but now Ursa probably had it in for Lois.

He didn't think the big one, Non, would do anything to Lois without instructions. But if he got instructions….bad things could happen. He thought of Lois damaged, her arms ripped off, her body burned by the Kryptonian heat vision…._No. I won't think of it. _Perry took several deep breaths and deliberately turned his mind away from other horrors.

He forced himself up and walked stiffly over to the coffeemaker. That was the first thing he'd sent Jimmy Olsen out for. They wouldn't have been able to get the _Daily Planet _up and running again without coffee, and the aliens had destroyed their old, familiar coffeemakers.

"Another strike against them," Perry muttered. It took awhile to get the coffeemakers properly broken in to producing the paint-remover-type newsroom coffee. These new coffeemakers actually made drinkable coffee.

Perry poured himself a cup, leaned back against his desk, sighing. A cool breeze from outside cooled his sweaty brow. They were fortunate that the alien attack had occurred in late spring, the weather good enough that the broken windows need not be fixed immediately. So far there had not been enough wind coming through the hole in the wall to affect his office. Lowering his head to take a sip, he looked up and gasped.

A figure in red and blue hovered outside.

"Superman," Perry breathed. "You're alive."

The Man of Steel nodded solemnly.

Perry came back to himself. "Come in! Come in!" he gestured. A bubble of happiness began to arise in his heart. Sardonically he added, "The window's open."

That got a tiny smile from Superman. Gathering his cape around him, the tall man floated into Perry's office, landing gently on the floor by Perry's desk.

Perry had to know. "Lois?" he asked urgently.

"She's safe," Superman said quietly. "I took her back to her apartment tonight."

Perry let out a long sigh. "Thank God," he said fervently. He didn't think of doubting Superman. When the Man of Steel talked in that tone, you believed him. "And thank _you_," Perry added. The tension flowed out and suddenly he felt very tired.

"You're welcome," Superman added, almost automatically, thought Perry. He noticed that Superman's cape was tattered and torn, and that the Suit sported several stains. As for his face, Perry thought that he had never seen the Man of Steel seem wearier.

_Looks like he's had a hard day, too, _thought Perry. The silence between the two men grew uncomfortable and Superman made as if to take off again.

"You want some coffee, Superman?" Perry blurted out.

Superman turned back, almost surprised-looking. "I'd like that," he said slowly.

Perry turned to pour a cup. Just then, approaching footsteps came to his attention.

"Superman!" said Tom, the assistant editor. "Are you – is everything OK?"

Perry saw the weariness drop away as the Kryptonian squared his shoulders and pasted a confident-looking smile on his face.

"Everything's fine," Superman said in his deep voice.

"That's great!" Tom said, then stood awkwardly. Perry thought he'd wanted to come up and shake Superman's hand, and then remembered that Superman wasn't the kind of guy you did that to.

"Um, I'm getting the interview here, so I'd appreciate it if you'd give us some privacy," Perry heard himself saying. "Can you please go out and keep everyone away?"

Tom seized on the excuse with enthusiasm. "Sure, Perry!" he said. "Get a good interview." He took a step forward and this time actually did shake Superman's hand. Almost dazedly, the Man of Steel gave the assistant editor a firm handshake. "And thank you, Superman!"

"You're welcome, Tom," Superman said. Perry thought he was responding almost automatically. Then Perry caught a quick glimpse of – was it panic? – from the Man of Steel.

"Wow! Superman knows my name!" Tom said, as he left the room under Perry's sharp glance.

After Tom left, Perry turned to Superman. "You know his name?" he asked curiously. After all, Tom was a fairly new hire, and no reporter. He had no byline, no column, no articles.

Superman looked uncomfortable. "I have a special relationship with the _Daily Planet,_" he said.

_Enough to know the names of newbie assistant editors? _Perry thought cynically. This called for further thought. It was flattering, in a way.

Superman shook Perry out of his thoughts by slumping out of his confident posture. The weariness came back to his face. Perry thought he had never seen Superman look so tired and gray.

Despite his obvious fatigue, the tall man made an effort. "The interview?" the Kryptonian asked with a teasing smile. "So that's why you invited me in?"

Perry gave a small smile back, then sat down tiredly. "Actually, Superman, I just said that to get Tom out of here." Understanding crossed Superman's face. Tom certainly was an acquired taste. That's why Perry had him on the night shift.

Perry continued. "Sure, if you want to give an interview, I'd be grateful. But I'm grateful already for what you've done." He poured a cup of coffee. "So, if you just want to sit a minute and have a cup of coffee, that's OK too." He handed the Man of Tomorrow a freshly poured cup.

Superman, looking surprised, took it. He held it in his hand for a long moment, then sighed and took a long sip. Then he pulled over a chair and sat down, automatically fluffing out his cape as he sat. The flickering motion of the tattered cape edges caught Perry's attention.

_I don't think I've ever seen Superman sit down before, _Perry thought. He'd certainly never seen him drink coffee, or eat food. This weary-looking tall man was different from the majestic and aloof Son of Krypton. Right now, Perry thought, the Man of Steel looked….almost human. It was reinforced when Superman ran a tired hand though his hair, pushing back the lock that hung over his forehead. A tiny shred of familiarity niggled at Perry's brain….he couldn't place it.

Perry automatically rubbed his own head. His headache wasn't any worse. But it wasn't any better, either.

"Are you all right, Mr. White?" Superman asked, sounding concerned.

"That cockamamie general threw me against the wall, and I blacked out," Perry admitted. "They wanted me to go for an MRI, but I was too busy getting the _Planet _up and running again."

"Oh," Superman said. Diffidently, he added, "If it's all right with you, I can check you over?"

"What?" Perry asked. Then it came to him. "Oh, the x-ray vision thing." Humor arose in him at the thought. "Yeah, that would be OK." Why not? It had been a crazy day already. "Go ahead."

Superman set down his coffee cup and sat up. He stared at Perry, eyes unfocused. Seconds passed. Perry couldn't stand the silence.

"What?" he asked. "Am I OK? Subdural hematoma? Brain bleed? Am I going to collapse tomorrow?"

Superman smiled. "No, Mr. White. I see some swelling and bruising on the back of your head – "

"Yeah, I can feel it," Perry interrupted.

" – but nothing serious. You'll be fine," Superman finished.

"You just saved the _Planet_'s insurance company fifteen hundred bucks," Perry said.

Superman let out a tiny chuckle. "Glad to hear it," he said. Then he added, more softly, "And I'm glad you're OK."

"Thanks," Perry said, touched. Superman cared about him? Superman was glad he was OK? Now he knew how Tom felt when Superman knew his name.

Superman sat back and picked up his coffee cup again. "You know," he said, almost absently, "I never thanked you and the _Daily Planet_ for getting me honorary citizenship." He looked up at Perry's murmur of surprise. "In fact, I never thanked you for starting the whole international thing so that I'm welcome all over the world."

Perry wondered where _that _came from, and why now. He remembered the event – it was a short time after Superman had come to the astonished attention of the world. Superman had kept the President's plane from crashing, had done rescues too numerous to mention. Most importantly, in Perry's eyes, he'd saved Lois a bunch of times. Perry had put the media clout of the _Planet _behind a campaign to get Congress to pass a special act granting citizenship to Superman, waiving the customary years-long residency period. By that time, it had been obvious what an asset Superman was, and the bill had passed both houses almost unanimously – a few xenophobes standing up to the strength of their convictions and voting against.

The campaign had made the worldwide news, spearheaded by the _Planet's _international editions and websites. Numerous other countries had followed suit, and Superman was entitled to carry over a hundred passports, if he ever did such a thing. Perry had felt the whole thing was, in a sense, his own accomplishment. Perry knew that bureaucracy, at times, was a worse enemy than an outright foe. He'd sure hate to see Superman hobbled by requests for a green card, or asked for customs duties.

"That's all right, Superman," Perry said. "I was glad to." Then, daringly, he added, "You may be an alien, but you're _our _alien."

A grimace twisted Superman's face, then he laughed shortly. "I guess that would make Zod an _illegal_ alien."

"Definitely," Perry agreed. "An undesirable alien. Deport him immediately." The two men shared glances and laughed. "But I guess you took care of that, Superman," Perry said.

Superman nodded, and looked back at his coffee. Back to business, apparently. "If I'm going to give an interview, it would certainly be with the _Daily Planet_," Superman murmured. He sipped the coffee. "And there's no time like the present." He sat up straighter and put the cup of coffee off to one side. "OK, Mr. White. Interview me."

"Don't you want Lois to have the interview?" Perry blurted out, surprised. He wasn't used to quick acquiescence on the part of interviewees. He expected to have to chase them, and pin them down, kicking and screaming, to get them to answer questions. And Lois had always done the in-depth Superman interviews.

"I think Lois might be too close to the story," Superman murmured. He cast Perry a glance. "Are you ready?"

Never let it be said that Perry White wasn't ready to grab an exclusive interview, Perry told himself. He reached in a fortunately-undamaged desk drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. His voice recorder was broken, darn it. "OK. Ready." He got ready to ask questions, but Superman beat him to the punch.

"When I learned about the rogue Kryptonians, I knew they had to be stopped…" The Man of Steel went on to tell a tale of super-powered battle, a clash of titans, culminating in the destruction of part of downtown Metropolis. Perry scribbled frantically, fascinated by the never-before expressed inner view of tactics and strategy from one who had been involved in the conflict.

Superman ended with, "When I realized that Zod and his minions were using the people of Metropolis as hostages, I knew I had to take the battle to a… less-populated area."

Perry stopped his scrawls. "We thought you were abandoning us."

Superman looked him in the eye. "Never," he said simply.

Perry looked away. "What happened next?"

This time, Superman looked away. "I was able to….well, let's just say that Zod and his companions won't be back."

"Oh, come on!" Perry said, surprising even himself. "How did you do it? You can't end the story there!"

Another flash of – was it panic? – in the eyes of the Man of Steel. "I'm sorry, Mr. White – " he said.

"Perry," said Perry firmly. "Call me Perry."

"I'm sorry, Perry," Superman said, "but I'm unable to discuss the means by which I was able to….rid Earth of this menace."

Superman meant it, too, thought Perry. He'd done enough interviews to know when he wouldn't get information out of a subject, and this was one of those times. The world would just have to not know what exactly happened to the rogue Kryptonians.

Why? Perry asked himself. Was Superman afraid that the same could happen to him? It was possible. After the fear and destruction of Zod's temporary dominion, the world had a new conception of what Kryptonian powers could do, unbound by the sense of morality and ethics that Superman possessed. No doubt a lot of research was going to be done, looking for Kryptonian vulnerabilities.

"All right, then," Perry said slowly, "but I have a few other questions for you."

The Man of Steel definitely looked apprehensive now. It was as if he recognized that Perry the Pit Bull was back in town.

"What about Lex Luthor? The last I saw him, he was with Zod's crew," Perry said.

Superman said, "I took him to the Metropolis Maximum Security Prison on Stryker's Island. He's being held until he can be charged." He smiled slightly. "You might want to get a reporter there for the court proceedings tomorrow. Perry."

Perry smiled back. "I'll be sure to do that." _Agree with the subject, get them answering, then slip them another question._ "Why was Zod out to get you? He kept on looking for you. And where were you all the time that Zod was running wild?"

The smile slipped off Superman's face, and he took on the stoic expression of the alien Son of Krypton. "Zod wanted to destroy me as the only person who could possibly defeat him. I am unable to discuss my whereabouts prior to my appearance here in Metropolis." Stiffly, he added, "I repeat, Zod and his minions will not return to Earth." Superman raised the cup of coffee to his lips, and Perry only thought he heard the Man of Steel mutter, "This time, anyway."

"All right, then," Perry said slowly. "That's good news, anyway." He cast about for another question. Certainly he wasn't himself tonight – his mind was slow and muffled. Normally he'd have a whole list of questions worked out prior to the interview.

A small sound from the near stairs caught his attention – and Superman's too. He heard a small gasp. Perry looked up. Lois Lane stood in the stairwell.

"I couldn't sleep," she said awkwardly. Her gaze locked on Superman's. He swallowed and said nothing.

Relief coursed through Perry. "Honey, are you all right?" Perry asked, going over to her and hugging her, formalities be damned. She was the daughter he'd never had.

Lois turned to look at him. "I'm all right, Perry," she said softly. She turned her head back and caught Superman's gaze again.

Perry looked at Superman. He had gone into a tense stillness at the sight of Lois. Only his eyes burned. Perry wondered how he had ever thought that the Man of Steel had no emotions – the air between Superman and Lois fairly crackled with electricity.

"Um….Excuse me," Perry mumbled, and promptly took himself off. Those two needed to be alone, if he was any judge of human nature. Or alien nature. Or whatever.

It was a needed break, anyway. Lots of coffee had produced the inevitable sequel. Perry wended his way to the men's room and took his time. He washed his hands slowly, and then carefully walked back to his half-destroyed office.

He breathed inward sharply. Superman and Lois stood in a tight embrace, Lois' head lying against the firm chest of the Man of Steel. Her face turned away from Perry, Lois wept silently. Superman held her closely, drawing his cape around her, his face a mixture of infinite tenderness and stoic misery.

His eyes caught Perry's. Perry shuffled nervously, and Superman turned his attention back to Lois. He made small wordless noises, comforting her. Embarrassed, Perry turned away and went down the newsroom, his mind awhirl.

_She's more than just a reporter to him – and he's more to her. _ Perry couldn't help but give a reluctant smile – if anyone on Earth could possibly entangle the Man of Steel into a romantic relationship, it would have to be Lois Lane. Who else could handle Lois but a super-powered alien? Then the smile left his face as he considered some of the possibilities. It looked as if the two had come up against some hard truths. Lois was going to be hurt. And Superman? Judging by the expression on his face, he was going to hurt too.

Perry gave the two a decent amount of time to compose themselves. As he headed back to his office, he saw the flash of red as Superman departed via the hole in the wall that used to be a window. Lois sat down on the office couch, wiping her eyes.

"So," Perry said.

Lois only nodded. She sniffled into her tissue.

Perry sat next to her. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Apparently this was the wrong thing to ask, because Lois burst into tears again. She hugged Perry desperately, crying quietly. Perry hugged her back awkwardly. He had never had a daughter. He had two sons, who never talked to him. Jerry, the oldest, was in prison. Perry blamed himself for this – his sons might have turned out all right if he hadn't been in a drunken stupor throughout their childhood. Holding Lois, her delicate bones in his arms, was a new experience.

She gathered herself, her weeping tailing off into a series of sniffles and nose-blows. She looked miserable.

"I got an interview with Superman about the battle with Zod," Perry said, fumbling. "You must know more. Do you want to write it up?"

Lois blew her nose one last time. Her eyes red, she said, "No, Perry, I think I'm too close to the story."

"Superman said the same thing," Perry told her softly.

Lois swallowed. "He's right," she said. A moment passed, and then she said, "Why don't you write it up and let me look at it. I'll add what I can and you can see if it's OK for the _Planet._"

"OK," Perry said slowly.

"I've got some other stuff I can work on," Lois said, her voice losing its trembling. She began to hide her misery under the "Mad Dog Lane" façade. Perry knew that expression well.

"All right then, Lois," Perry said. "If you can't sleep, then work."

Lois gave him a wobbly smile. "You too," she replied.

* * *

Perry kept a close eye on Lois for the next few days. Despite her best efforts, there was a shadow over her. The spark that made Lois Lane the best reporter in town seemed to have been extinguished – whether permanently or temporarily, Perry didn't know.

He wished he could keep an eye on the Man of Steel as well, but that was out of his power. Superman was very busy, though – not only was he assisting in the repair of the areas of Metropolis that had been damaged or destroyed by Zod and his super-powered henchmen, he made a rescue somewhere in the world almost hourly, it seemed. Perry wanted to ask him about the news that astronomers had discovered what they thought was Krypton – a topic that had assumed great interest for all Earthlings since Zod's reign of terror. But Superman wasn't giving interviews. Even Clark Kent couldn't get a quote from the superhero – which was unusual. Perry didn't even consider asking Lois.

Not only that, Lois seemed uncomfortable with her erstwhile partner, Clark Kent. Over the past year, they'd worked together more and more, and Perry thought that all the rough edges had been worn off that relationship. But now there were awkward pauses and uncomfortable silences between the two.

The two had never turned in their "Niagara honeymoon scam" story, although Perry had to give them a pass on this. A lot of stories had fallen by the wayside in the advent of the Kryptonian invasion.

Perry wondered if Clark had found out that, as the Victorians said, Lois' heart was given to another. How could an ordinary guy compete with the Man of Steel? From one or two unguarded looks, it was obvious that Clark had feelings for Lois. Heck, Perry had known that for years. What Perry hadn't known was the depths of feeling that Lois had for Superman. There was no hope for Clark there. Perry wondered if Clark had declared his feelings, Lois had turned him down, and now things were….uncomfortable….between them.

Well, well, well. Office romances, love triangles -- this was a good thing to stay out of, thought Perry. Lois and Clark seemed to be behaving professionally enough, despite the occasional glimpses of misery that peeped out of their shuttered eyes.

Which was why, when Clark kissed Lois in the newsroom, Perry was surprised. Maybe a few of their co-workers saw the embrace – Perry only caught it because he happened to be looking out his (now-repaired) office door at the time. Clark's body screamed restrained passion. But Perry saw Lois back away from the kiss, and sit down at her desk as if nothing had happened. Clark's shoulders slumped and he walked away.

And something in Clark's defeated posture reminded Perry, just a moment, of how Superman had held Lois in his arms that morning after the rogue Kryptonians were defeated. Then Perry turned to his next editorial task, and the thought evaporated, like the morning dew burning off a flower petal, not to be seen again.

The next day, Clark came to Perry's office. "Chief," he began.

"Don't call me Chief," Perry said automatically.

"Perry," Clark said, "I want a leave of absence."

Perry sat down heavily at his desk. "I knew something like this was coming."

"You did?" Clark asked. He seemed almost panicked for a minute, then smoothed over his face with an expression of mild surprise.

"I didn't get to my position because I could yodel," Perry said sarcastically. "I've seen you with Lois."

Clark sighed and sat down. "I can't stay, Perry."

"Uh-huh," Perry grunted.

Clark continued. "I've got to get away. I'm going to go hiking around the world."

"You're set on this, aren't you?" Perry asked. Rhetorical question, it was obvious. Clark wanted to leave.

Clark sighed again. "Yes, Perry. I'll send a postcard now and then. But don't expect to hear from me regularly."

Perry gazed at him for a moment. The tall man seemed beaten down. Perry paid him the compliment of not asking about Lois or his love life. "We'll miss you, Clark."

"You too, Perry," Clark said, choking up. Obviously this was hard for him.

"Two weeks notice?" Perry asked.

"Can it be sooner?" Clark replied. He must really want to get out, thought Perry.

"End of the week, then?"

Clark nodded.

"OK," Perry said. "You get packed up. I'll handle the paperwork with Human Resources." He stood up; Clark followed suit. He grasped Clark's hand. "You're a good reporter, Clark. Remember that in your world travels. Don't forget us here at the _Planet._"

"I won't, Perry," Clark said. He shook Perry's hand warmly and walked away.

* * *

Superman made his last appearance that week as well.

As time passed, the world realized their helper was gone. Superman didn't come to disasters, he didn't do rescues, he just didn't appear, no matter the need.

At first Perry felt betrayed, remembering that strangely intimate moment on that quiet early morning at the _Planet_. "We thought you had abandoned us," Perry remembered saying. And he remembered Superman looking him straight in the eye, reassuring him, saying simply, "Never." But now Superman was gone.

It took some time for Perry to realize that the crises that Superman no longer attended to were all _human _problems. Superman hadn't left the human race faced with rogue Kryptonians, or evil artificial intelligences, or out-of-control asteroids, or terrifying alien monsters bent on world conquest. No, the problems that humans faced were all of their own making.

And people came to realize it. As the years passed, Perry and the _Planet _staff picked up on the sea of public opinion. There was a sense that Superman had descended from some heavenly realm, had come to help Earth…but only for a while. And, like all things too good to be true, Superman's time had passed. It was as if a deity could spend only so much time in the mortal realm before he had to go. Angels were too good for this coarse land; they had to go back to heaven.

After a period of denial, then dismay, leading to anger, and finally grief, the human race moved on to acceptance. People got used to rescuing themselves, or dying - the way they had for thousands of years, before Superman-created miracles happened on a daily basis. The world was a darker place, but still some gratitude remained. Gratitude that this god in a cape had descended to Earth. Gratitude that he had helped. Even if only for a short time.

Only Perry knew of the secret love of the god. And, as the years passed, Perry suspected more and more, that the embrace of a weeping Lois wrapped in the cape of a stern and agonizing Superman, explained the absence of the hero.


	20. Step Twelve, Part One

_Author's note: the ideas, and some of the wording, in this section are ripped bodily, bleeding chunks of plagiarism and all, from Perkulator's marvelous fanfic, "**The Obituary**". Thanks to Perkulator for permission to use the obituary-reveal idea. Also, my thanks to mak5258 for the fanic "**POV**", whose mood and events were a major influence on this section. Both of these stories can be found on fanfiction dot net and are highly recommended._

_The events in this section are based on the movies, "Superman II", "Superman II – The Donner Cut", and "Superman Returns"._

* * *

_**Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.**_

Perry looked over the deserted bullpen, the innumerable lights of Metropolis illuminating the night sky outside. He sighed and turned his attention back to the two mock-ups. In "Second-Coming" type, the headline proclaimed: **Superman Is Dead. ** Perry shivered, hoping that the _Daily Planet_ would have reason to run the second: **Superman Lives. **

Shaking his head, lost in thought, Perry thought what a tragedy it would be if Superman did die. Since his astonishing debut years before, the alien – _no, __**the man, **_thought Perry, had made uncountable rescues, saved lives too numerous to mention, and been an inspiration to everyone. His absence for five years had only driven home how lucky Earth was to have such an adopted son. Without Superman, humans had fallen back into their old habits of misanthropy, selfishness, and despair. Having an inhabitant from galaxies away making the daily news tended to put mere international differences into perspective.

When Superman returned, it was if a frisson of excitement, a shock, had gone around the globe, electrifying everyone. Even Perry wasn't immune to the excitement, the sheer wonder of seeing the flying figure. It was like old times once again. Look, even Clark Kent had gotten tired of his world travels and come back to where he belonged at the _Planet, _thought Perry.

That was comforting. Perry had assigned Clark to the obituary files, a waste of Clark's superb reporting talents, but the only opening at the _Planet _right now. It didn't matter; soon enough a spot would open and Clark's byline would be back on the front page again.

Perry frowned – would Clark be partnering with Lois? The Lane and Kent byline had produced some of the _Planet's _best stories. But, as Perry had observed, Lois had hardly looked at Kent since he returned. Whether it was her relationship with Richard White, Perry's nephew, or having a child now, or just being Lois Lane and having ten stories on the back burner all at once, plus two major investigations and a stable of informants to keep happy – whatever, she had been extremely distant with Clark.

It was odd, though, how much Lois' son Jason liked the tall reporter. And Perry thought he knew why. The other day, Clark and Jason had been silhouetted against one of the tall _Planet _windows. Perry had happened to look up just at the right moment and saw the two figures. And the shapes, the silhouettes, the movement of the man and the boy, uncomplicated by speech or facial features, had told Perry right then that Jason was Clark's son.

He'd sat back at his desk, breathing heavily for a moment. It was a revelation that suddenly made sense, the puzzle pieces fitting together. Why had Jason been born "prematurely"? Why did he bear no resemblance to Richard? And – of course! – Perry could see it now – the blue eyes of Clark Kent, strangely diluted in color by his unattractive glasses, blazed out of Jason White's face.

Even the timing fit – Clark and Lois had gone off on that Niagara honeymoon investigation. At the time, Perry had thought that romance might be in the offing – Clark was clearly smitten with Lois, and Lois had been softening to where she was polite to Clark almost all the time. And that didn't count the occasional stolen glances that Perry saw Lois give Clark when she thought the latter wasn't paying attention. What could be more logical, more likely than that they'd fallen hard for each other, conceived Jason then? Perry had looked back in his old files – yes, Jason's birth followed that Niagara trip by an appropriate period of time.

So, that afternoon, Perry had spent quite a bit of time watching his nephew's putative child, deciding hours later that his lightning impression was correct – Clark Kent had fathered Jason White.

And _that _raised a whole flock of questions. Why hadn't Clark stayed and provided for his son? Perry knew Clark, knew him from years working together, and even more closely through the Friendly Friday meetings and the numerous meetings for coffee afterwards. From occasional oblique comments, Perry thought that Clark had actually wanted children. So, if Clark had gotten Lois pregnant, Perry couldn't imagine him going away. Clark was a stand-up guy who wouldn't abandon his child.

And yet he had. Just a few weeks after the rogue Kryptonian invasion, Clark had gone on his five-year world travel tour. And Lois had made no further mention of Clark.

The only thing Perry could figure was that Clark didn't know that Lois was pregnant. In fact, from what Perry remembered, Lois herself didn't know she was pregnant for about three or four months. Lois had always had an easily-upset stomach, and had attributed her morning sickness to too much coffee on an empty stomach. And Perry had newsroom sources in the "girl gossip" department. He'd heard that Lois had mentioned once that she'd always had irregular periods. (_That is definitely TMI about one of your employees, _Perry had thought at the time.) But later on he'd realized it made sense that Lois didn't suspect she was pregnant until all the signs coalesced into an unmistakable diagnosis.

So Lois was knocked up, and Clark was missing. The funny thing was that Lois never mentioned Clark during those months of her pregnancy. Of course, she'd taken up with Richard then (Perry wondered how much of that was rebound) and everyone assumed that Richard had fathered Jason.

Perry had thought so, too, until five years later, a stance, a posture, and similar blue eyes made the Clark and Jason relationship apparent. He wondered that no one else in the newsroom noticed it. Even Lois made no mention of it. She hardly ever looked at Clark, talked to him only distantly and professionally. Perry wondered if she had considered Clark being the father and wasn't talking to him because of his abandonment, or if Lois, too, genuinely thought Jason was Richard's son.

The boy seemed to know, though; Jason headed to Clark every time he was in the newsroom – and that was frequently, given that Lois and Richard lived for, by and with the _Daily Planet. _ And Clark always seemed open and friendly to the boy, always happy to see him. Perry had seen the tall reporter more than once bend over to talk to Jason in a quiet voice.

Perry wondered if Clark himself knew that he was Jason's father. Perry didn't think so. Perry couldn't imagine Clark not wanting to be a part of his son's life. And Perry had heard nothing from Lois and Richard about Clark questioning Jason's paternity.

_DNA testing?_ Perry thought. Would he mention it to Clark? Or to Lois? No chance. That would open a can of worms. Think of the lives it would change, Perry mused. Perry was a firm believer than when you opened a can of worms, the only way to re-can them was to use a larger can. And Lois, and Richard, and Jason, were happy now. Why uproot their lives? And Richard was Perry's nephew. Family loyalty had to count for something, didn't it? Perry swatted down the gnawing little reminder that Clark was almost like a son to him. _And Lois is like a daughter, _he told himself savagely. _It's two to one. I'm not going to mess up Lois and Richard for Clark. _

Of course, it didn't matter right now; Kent was out sick, having tripped on some debris from the earthquake. So Perry had a few more days to ignore that niggling little voice of conscience deep down inside.

He sighed and forced his attention back to the mockups. **Superman Is Dead **versus **Superman Lives. ** Which was it to be? No matter, the _Planet _would be ready. Perry went back to his monitor, pulled up the obituary file.

Like most news organizations, the _Daily Planet _had files on the famous and not-quite-dead-yet. Aware that the Grim Reaper eventually visited everyone, the newspaper kept pre-written obituaries, articles on the person's life and accomplishments, able to be pulled out at a moment's notice. Perry pulled out Superman's file, expecting to find it in need of updating.

Except it wasn't. Good for Kent, thought Perry. He must have been a Boy Scout, because he was always prepared. It was all there – Superman's astounding debut, synopses of Lois' articles through the years that had told Earth so much about its adopted son, a quick overview of Superman's greatest feats and rescues, his five-year trip to Krypton, Superman's foes through his career, and how Superman had foiled Lex Luthor's most recent nefarious plot. The plot that had done so much damage to Metropolis, thought Perry, looking at the tarp covering the hole in his office wall where Superman had shot through to catch the _Daily Planet _globe before it fell to the ground. Not incidentally, saving Perry White's life in doing so.

Kent ended the article by saying poetically that Superman had no known survivors, but had always considered the entire Earth a replacement for his own lost home and family. Perry nodded his head slowly, mentally thanking the Man of Steel. He re-read the obituary, preparing to place it into the front page mockup. Then a tiny alarm bell rang in his head. What was it? Perry trusted his journalistic instincts.

He re-read each sentence of the obit, checking automatically for errors in spelling and grammar. None, of course; he didn't expect any with Kent. Debut – check. Born on Krypton, check. Could fly, has heat vision, super-breath, etc., etc., – check. Saving the Golden Gate Bridge – check. Stopping the criminal careers of blah blah blah – check. Five-year trip to Krypton, just got back – check. No known survivors – check.

No, go back. Wait a moment. Five-year trip to Krypton? How had Clark known that? Perry sat down slowly as he considered it. Obviously, the only person who had known at the start was Superman. But Superman had told Lois. And Lois had told Perry, when she handed him the hard copy of her story, "Superman Returns". And Perry hadn't told anyone. He had been holding Lois' interview for the Sunday edition. And Lois had told Perry that she hadn't told anyone else.

So – as Perry checked the time stamp on Clark Kent's edit code – how had Kent known about Superman's trip to Krypton the day _before _Lois turned in her interview? Unless he'd spoken to Superman first. But why, then, wouldn't he have mentioned that? Lois had been at an interview with Perry and Clark, and both had heard her passionately complain about being forced to do the Superman story when she wanted to investigate the blackout. If Kent had spoken with Superman first and gotten the scoop about the trip to Krypton, why hadn't he mentioned it then? Perry thought for sure that Kent would have mentioned an interview with Superman, to save Lois from having a job that she passionately complained about. Did Kent have some sort of nondisclosure agreement with Superman? He'd never mentioned any such thing, and certainly Kent had gotten his share of Superman stories in the past.

Perry paced the length of his office, considering this. It just didn't feel right. He'd learned to trust his instincts. He looked at the muted TV monitor; tuned to an all-news channel, it was replaying a montage of previous Superman feats. The camera focused on the caped superhero as he blew, then turned to focus on the burning building. The fire died, and the camera turned back to focus on Superman once more before he gave an awkward wave and flew away.

Something about the way Superman turned niggled Perry's memory. A sensation of déjà vu….He reached for his remote control and replayed the moment. He slowed down, paused at the spot where Superman turned away, just before the hero leapt into the air. Perry could see the mussed ends of Superman's black hair, the outline of his cheek, his profile.

Perry began musing. Superman was tall…Clark Kent was tall as well, although apparently shorter than Superman. And Clark had that perpetual hunched-over stoop. Superman had been on a five-year trip to Krypton. Clark Kent had taken a five-year travel trip around the world. Superman was in a coma; Clark Kent had fallen and was out sick. Both men had black hair. Clark wore those dorky glasses, of course….

Suddenly it hit Perry and he sat down heavily. He looked at Superman, paused in profile on his TV. His heart began racing and he found himself gasping for air. His legs became shaky and he collapsed into his desk chair. He laid his head down on his desk, made himself breathe deeply. His hands trembled.

He knew that face. He knew that profile. He saw it almost every day in his office, disguised under a pair of thick black-framed glasses. Why hadn't he noticed it before? It was obvious now. Superman was Clark Kent. They were the same person. Perry wished he was still drinking so he could have a stiff belt right now. Then he took back the wish – even in shock, losing his sobriety was nothing to joke about.

Perry sat at his desk as the trembling gradually faded. He watched the continuous Superman coverage, and gave a short laugh. He'd had Superman – _Superman! _– working for him at the _Daily Planet. _Yep, Perry White was Superman's boss. And he hadn't known it. He'd bossed around the most powerful man in the world, giving him orders, sending him on assignments, critiquing his writing. Although not so much of that last. Kent – no, Superman – was a remarkably good writer.

Then Perry's mind began working again, slowly. Random thoughts chased themselves through his brain, Perry unable to hold one still for any length of time.

_I guess that's why he knew about the trip to Krypton before Lois did – he shouldn't have put it in the obituary. But he didn't plan on the obit being needed, did he? If we didn't need it now, his time stamp wouldn't matter – but that's what doesn't add up... Has he been X-raying me all this time? That explains how he got so many scoops, doesn't it?...What about the hearing thing? Has he heard every bad thing I've said about him? Not that there's much bad to say about Clark Kent – he's kind of…gray. Just gray….. Why does he work __**here**__? He could do anything. Literally……So that was __**him **__who saved my life two days ago, catching the __**Planet**__ globe before it smashed me like a bug….And he goes to AA meetings. Superman goes to Friendly Friday Metropolis AA meetings. Ohmigod, I've been offering sobriety advice to Superman! Why didn't you see this before, Perry? You call yourself a reporter? _

He forced himself up, walked over to get a glass of water. As he drank, his trembling hands spilled water down the front of his shirt. "That was the start of my drinking problem," Perry muttered, unable to stop quoting the line from the movie "Airplane!" to himself. As always, the line brought a smile to Perry's face.

He took a deep breath and sat back down. OK. Take it one step at a time. Perry chuckled again, almost hysterically; he knew all about steps.

One: Superman was Clark Kent. Or, Perry thought, narrowing his eyes, was it more appropriate to say that Clark Kent was Superman? After all, Perry knew that Clark had a history going back to childhood in Kansas. Clark had a birth certificate, a hometown, and parents. Perry had seen pictures of Clark's mother and father. Clark had mentioned that his father had passed away some years ago, and his mother lived quietly on their Kansas farm. Perry pulled his mind away from speculation on Clark's parents. Were they, had they been, super-powered too?

But back to the first step. Superman hadn't come to Earth's astounded attention until about ten years ago. Clark was thirty, thirty-five? So, Perry thought, his lips twisting in a sardonic smile, maybe Superman was the costume? Everybody thought that Superman had come to Earth as an adult – certainly that was the impression that the hero gave in all his interviews. But if he'd come here as a baby – that would explain a lot of things, thought Perry. Like his fluency in English, his Midwestern accent, his familiarity with Earth customs and culture. Why had Perry never thought about this before? Once again he asked himself.

And if he came as a baby, the Kents must have raised him to adulthood. They must have known. Perry felt a reluctant admiration for the couple who had raised Clark. Keeping a secret this big…

Oh. Oh. Oh. Forget the steps. Hadn't Perry just been thinking about this? Clark Kent had a son. _Superman _had a son. Jason White was Clark's son. He was Superman's son.

How could this be possible? How could an alien interbreed? _Perry, this sounds like a plot to some fifties B-movie, _he chided himself. But he found his heart rate rising again. He'd already convinced himself that Clark was Jason's father. Just because Perry now knew that Clark equaled Superman didn't change that.

And _that, _Perry realized, changed what he had to do. Perry had to let Clark know that he was a father. Did Jason have superpowers? He'd certainly showed no signs of any when he hung around the newsroom. Did Lois know? Did Richard? Was the Kryptonian ancestry dominant in some fashion? What if the kid developed some sort of powers? Who could help him control them?

_Only Superman_, Perry realized. Jason White needed a father. And Clark Kent needed his son. Forget going step by step. Perry had to level with Clark right away.


	21. Step Twelve, Part Two

_Author's note: This section makes reference to events in the movie, "Superman Returns". _

Perry gave it two days before he called Clark into his office. Superman had come out of his coma. And, just coincidentally, Clark Kent came back to the _Daily Planet _the day after Superman left his hospital bed. Perry wondered if he'd ever have the guts to ask Kent about the hospital stay.

He'd heard that the hospital staff had found the bed empty and the Suit missing – Superman apparently having recovered enough to have flown out the window. Perry took a moment to wonder who was going to pay the bill for Superman's care – face it, Superman couldn't submit a claim to the _Planet_'s health insurance carrier. Perry spared a minute to fantasize – he could just see the insurance bastards poring over the claim. _"Let's see, Mr. Superman. Stabbed with Kryptonite? This Kryptonite…hmm, you get weak when around it? From your home world? Pre-existing condition, then. Claim denied." _

Then again, Metropolis General, as a Level One trauma center in the middle of America's second largest city, delivered more uncompensated emergency care than just about any other hospital in the country. (The money for the police guard didn't count, that was under the Dignitary Protection Bureau budget of the Metropolis P.D.) And Met Gen had gotten a tremendous amount of publicity for being "Superman's Hospital" that they were milking for all it was worth. So if they had to eat the charges….well, it wasn't like they'd been able to do a lot for Superman anyway. Perry had heard on the best authority that the doctors had no clue about Kryptonian anatomy and physiology, and that the medical staff had been unable to intubate, place intravenous lines, draw blood, give injections, and do many of the other basic things associated with a twenty-first century hospital stay.

Basically the Man of Steel's treatment had been bed rest, non-invasive monitoring devices and oxygen. Basically Mother Nature and Father Time. Plus the nursing care that was the outstanding specialty of Met Gen. It was a good thing Superman seemed to heal quickly...Perry dragged his thoughts back to the newsroom.

The first day Perry spent just sneaking glances at Kent, still agog at the thought of Superman – _Superman! _- in his newsroom. The tall man worked at his keyboard – Perry thought of the words he'd said to Lois early in Clark's tenure – _"he's the fastest typist I've ever seen" _– intermixed with strolls around the newsroom to get coffee, to use the copier, pick up stuff at the printer, bump into file cabinets, knock over coffee cups, drop reams of paper on his toes. A trail of exasperated smiles and lifted spirits followed Kent around the newsroom.

Now that Perry knew, he could see the clumsiness was an act. A good act, one that Perry had never picked up on before, but now Perry could see the subtle body shifts, the careful positioning that set up the pratfalls and the bumbling. And no one was hurt by the comedy routine. Clark was the one with paper reams falling on his toe. Clark was the one who got coffee on his tie. Clark was the one who got bruised - _or not_ – by bumping into the file cabinet. Perry made a mental note to check the edge of the file cabinet for deformation.

One time Clark looked up and met Perry's eyes curiously. Perry quickly looked away, unable to face the even gaze. He swore at himself. He had to be more circumspect. Then Jason came running up to Clark and the latter's attention turned quickly to the child. Perry sighed in relief.

_Why did I do that? _Perry asked himself. _Why am I scared of him? _Heck, he'd been working with Clark Kent for over fifteen years now. Clark certainly wasn't violent or explosive. And although Perry had only met Superman a few times _– at least when he's in the Suit – _he knew the superhero never hurt anyone either. Even the bad guys agreed on that.

But he couldn't stop himself from shying away from Clark's gaze. And he couldn't stop himself from sneaking looks at Clark every few minutes. It was like nature videography. _Come see the wild Kryptonian in his natural environment. Disguised as a mild-mannered reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper, this strange visitor from another planet…_what? What did he do?

Well, right now, he was holding his son in his lap as Jason carefully explained the intricacies of a crayon drawing. Perry sneaked another glance. The two were so alike. The relationship was obvious for those with eyes to see.

Perry sighed. Then he dragged his attention back to his regular work, forcing himself to deal with laggard reporters, stories in dire need of grammatical correction, an editorial demanding composition. But throughout the day, Perry couldn't stop himself from staring at Clark Kent.

* * *

Perry tossed and turned in his bed. He mentally rehearsed the conversation with Kent a thousand times. What would Clark do?

Perry stumbled into the newsroom early, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He let the assistant editor handle the staff meeting, careful not to react when Neal began assigning pieces on Superman.

"Eduardo – I want you to keep on working on the harbor cleanup. What have you got so far?"

"Well, Neal, most of the debris from Lex Luthor's island is way out to sea, past the twelve-mile limit, but a few boulders landed in the harbor. They're pretty big. The city will be pulling in dredgers and divers from up and down the coast. It's a hazard to marine navigation. That's not even counting the boats that sank in the earthquake. It's going to take quite some time to get all that cleaned up."

"Patricia."

"Yes?"

"How are the man-on-the-street interviews coming along?"

"Well, so far I've got the guy who fell off the high rise that Superman caught, three guys from Metropolis Power and Light who were almost blown up when the gas lines caught on fire but didn't because Superman saved them, and a bunch of people who were on First Street when the glass came tumbling down."

"And?"

"Superman incinerated it with his heat vision, nobody was hurt."

"You won't get much out of those interviews, but try to dress it up," said the assistant editor. "Superman rescues have been done a thousand times already. Just try to make it fresh."

"OK, Neal." Patricia made a few discreet notes into her PDA.

"Get the story," the assistant editor said. He turned. "Mitch! How is the baseball team coming on the removal of that airplane from the playing field?"

Perry shot a glance at Lois. She'd been on that plane which had carried the space shuttle. Lex Luthor's first blackout had caused an electromagnetic pulse which had lobotomized the software necessary to have the shuttle detach. Unable to separate from its carrier airplane, the shuttle had carried the jet up into the stratosphere, and the shuttle exhaust had set the tail of the jet on fire. Had Superman not intervened, all aboard would have died, either from oxygen deprivation at apogee, or later on, when the ungainly contraption crashed to Earth. Lois maintained a stony countenance, keeping an apparent façade of indifference at what must have been a terrifying episode.

Superman had separated the shuttle from its carrier, given the shuttle a push into orbit, then gone back to rescue the hurtling plane. In the frightening tumble back into Earth's gravitational well, both wings had come off the airplane. Superman had stopped the falling jet body with literally no time to spare. Perry spared a minute to look at Kent. The tall reporter had an amused countenance. Perry had to give him kudos – without Superman's save, the jet would have crashed and killed everyone aboard, along with whoever on the ground happened to be at the crash site. In this case, the crash site might well have been the stadium for the Metropolis baseball team. Perry shivered as he thought of the carnage that might have occurred in the bowl-like stadium – jet fuel exploding and burning, a blast wave from the crash rippling against the confining walls….Horror averted once more by…_a mild-mannered reporter. _

"Um, the team isn't making much progress, Neal," Mitch said. "All the heavy equipment is being used for earthquake repairs. The team is getting antsy – they've had to cancel one home stand already." He chuckled. "Actually, I've heard that the team executives are asking around if Superman would be willing to take the jet out of there."

"Come on!" Neal said, amidst laughter from the other reporters. "Superman does what he does. He isn't an errand boy so the Metropolitans can cram in more fans." Perry saw Clark smile too.

"I know, Neal," Mitch said, laughing too. Then he turned a little more serious. "Major league baseball, and the government, are going to put out an offer to Superman – they'll take whatever it would cost to get the jet out of there and donate that amount to a charity of Superman's choice. Which, knowing the big blue guy, will probably be the Superman Foundation. And, honestly, the team didn't _ask _to get a jet dumped in the middle of their baseball diamond."

Perry shot a look at Kent from under lowered eyelids. From his perch behind the seated reporters, the tall man asked, "Just out of curiosity, Mitch, where do they want Superman to take the plane?"

"I heard them say the Space Center in Florida. The NASA guys really want to dissect out this plane and compare it to the shuttle, look over the software and everything, see if they can figure out what exactly went wrong," the short sports reporter said. His height didn't reflect his talent. The _Planet _rejoiced in no less than seven Pulitzers won by Mitch, a reporter with a talent for making sports writing serve as a prism for life. "That's why they want Superman to do it. Otherwise, they'll have to cut it up into pieces to get it out of there, and it'll take forever. And cutting it up – any more than it is already, with the wings off - would probably damage evidence, make it harder for them to do their plane autopsy." He took a sip of water. "Heck, NASA or the government should double the bounty for Superman to do it. It would be worth it to them."

Perry shrugged. It probably would be.

Mitch continued teasingly, "I think Superman should hold out for Metropolitans season tickets too."

"Hey, watch it! If Big Blue takes that plane out of there, he's supposed to be rewarded, not punished!" Neal quipped. The assembled reporters laughed at the humor involving Metropolis' perennially losing baseball team.

Perry again shot a glance at Clark. _Superman can't use season tickets. He likes baseball but he only goes once or twice a year. Maybe because he's pretty busy? Having two jobs really cuts into your free time, you know. _

Clark had a tiny smile on his lips.

"Well, if the officials are going to put out a request for Superman, the _Planet _will print it," Neal said, not bothering to look at Perry for approval. None needed – Perry concurred. It was _Planet _policy to print newsworthy items like that.

Perry idly wondered if Clark would go ahead and move the plane – money didn't seem to motivate Clark much. And it wasn't like Superman didn't have other things to do. Neal was right – Superman wasn't an errand boy.

On the other hand, Mitch had given some good reasons for Superman to help. And, in a sense, it was Superman's mess. And Perry had noticed that Clark Kent was a pretty tidy guy. He looked over and saw Clark's tiny smile again. Suddenly Perry felt certain that Superman would be taking that plane out of Metropolis Stadium soon. As soon as the _Planet _printed the story, in fact – just let the official request get into the media. And Perry would use his awesome editorial powers to make sure that the _Planet _put pressure on the government to double the bounty. He only hoped that Kent - no, Superman in this case - would give enough warning so that the _Planet _could cover the story. Somehow, Perry thought he would. He smiled as he remembered a long-ago nighttime interview with Superman. The Man of Steel had said, _"I have a special relationship with the __**Daily Planet**__." Yeah, we sign your paychecks_, thought Perry. _That's your special relationship._ He snickered.

Perry remained lost in thought for the rest of the meeting. Clark was assigned some puff pieces, nothing that should take him too long to complete. Lois was finishing up her exclusive story of Lex Luthor's megalomaniacal plan. Perry saw that once again, she looked past Clark, barely acknowledged him. Ever since Clark had returned from his five-year world trip – _no, from his intergalactic travels to Krypton _– Lois hadn't really greeted him, hadn't really talked to him. Perry noticed that now. Why was that? Was it because she had a kid now? Because she had a fiancé now?

But they had to talk. Knowing what he knew now, Perry was willing to bet that Lois and Clark were going to have some deep conversations in the next few days. He decided to throw Clark a bone.

The meeting ended and reporters scattered. "Kent! Lane! In my office!" Perry growled. The two fell into step behind him, most of the other reporters having already exited the conference room. The three entered Perry's office and he shut the door.

"Lois?"

"Yes, Perry?"

"How are you feeling?" Perry's tenderness surprised even himself. But the mention of the airplane had put him in Lois' shoes for a moment. In the last week, she'd almost died in a horrific plane crash, been kidnapped, had her son threatened in front of her, seen her onetime lover in a coma….surely repeated blows could damage even the strongest of souls. Perry shot a quick glance at Kent. The tall reporter had pulled his glasses down and was staring at Lois with a peculiar unfocused gaze. Perry's heartbeat shot up at the realization that Superman was checking Lois Lane for injury. _Not for the first time_, he thought.

"I'm fine," Lois said dismissively. Perry gave her a steady look, which she returned. Out of the corner of his eye, Perry caught Clark pushing his glasses back up and looking relieved.

"OK, then, Lois," Perry said. "But if you need some time off….if you need to get caught up, or whatever, you've got it coming."

"I'll be fine," Lois said again.

"OK." Perry turned so that Clark and Lois both faced him.

"Clark, Lois, I want you to finish up what you're doing today. Then tomorrow, I'm putting you both on the Lex Luthor search."

Clark raised his eyebrows, nodded.

"Perry!" Lois said. Was she surprised?

"As Jimmy said, Lex Luthor has more bad history with Superman than anyone," Perry said, carefully not looking at Clark. He hoped that Clark wasn't picking up on his accelerating heartbeat. If he was, there was nothing Perry could do about it. Talking to Superman directly, even with the hero incognito, still made Perry just a tad shaky. Lois was the buffer, although she didn't realize it.

"What about Richard?" Lois asked.

"What about him?" Perry retorted. "Yeah, he was with you, helped you save Superman. But now he's got work to do in the international section." He firmed his voice. "You and Clark are my best team. I want you two to do the Luthor story."

"Thanks, Perry," Clark said softly.

"Lois, don't forget," Perry said, "after Superman, you're the one with the next most bad history with Lex Luthor." He held her gaze. "I think as far as he's concerned, it's him or you. I don't want it to be you." _Or your son, or my nephew, _he added mentally. With an inner wave of humor, Perry thought, _I think your reporting partner can take care of himself._

He stood up, his body language ending the meeting. "So, again, finish up what you're doing today. Start the Luthor story tomorrow."

"OK." Lois knew not to argue when Perry got that tone in his voice. She exited the office, once again not acknowledging Clark.

"Clark," Perry said.

"Yes?"

"Can you go out for coffee this evening?" Their code phrase again. It meant that one of them wanted to talk AA stuff.

Clark gave him a look of mild surprise; it had been a long time since their last coffee meeting. "Sure, Perry."

"OK. The Delmar at six."

"OK." Clark gave Perry one more curious look, then went out to the bustling newsroom. Perry saw him head hopefully to Lois' desk and walk away disappointed. Lois had already left the newsroom.


	22. Step Twelve, Part Three

_Author's note: The background of this story is that of the movie __**"Superman Returns"**__. That is, Superman went away to visit Krypton for five years and came back to discover that __Lois Lane had moved on and had a son. And Clark Kent has just found out that he is the father of that child..._

* * *

The Delmar was a small diner two blocks away from the Daily_ Planet _building. When Perry had a choice, he met all his AA buddies there. The place was clean, the waitresses friendly, and the coffeepot bottomless. He'd run into other _Planet _workers there numerous times. Perry figured that the office grapevine knew that he came here for coffee. And, in the knowing-without-saying department, he figured that everyone at the _Planet _knew all about his AA meetings and buddies at this restaurant. It wasn't as if he kept it a secret. He just didn't say it out loud, so as not to embarrass his diner companions.

Perry slid into the booth a little late. As ever, a last-minute "emergency" had arisen that only Perry could handle. He'd dealt with it in short order, barking at his assistant who should have been able to manage the problem.

"Hi, Clark. Sorry I'm late," Perry said. Then he thought about how many times Clark Kent had been late, or absent. _Guess I know why now. He was probably doing some Superman rescue thing or other. _Perry smiled just a bit as he realized that he had the answer to the perennial newsroom question, _why can't Clark Kent ever be on time? _

"No problem," Clark replied, looking at Perry a bit oddly. Perry realized his smile seemed a little misplaced. The waitress came over and greeted them. She knew Perry well.

"Hey, Doris, how's the family?" Perry asked.

"Well, Marney's in her third year at Met U, and Bob's talking retirement, but he's not doing anything specific about it…." The waitress chatted on as she poured Perry's coffee. She didn't bother taking his order anymore – Perry was such a regular that all the staff knew to bring him a large mug of black coffee when he sat down.

"Sounds good, Doris," Perry said. The waitress moved on to the next table.

"Um, Clark?" Perry said, suddenly tongue-tied.

"Yes?" Clark asked.

"Um, how are you feeling? I heard you fell on some earthquake debris." That was the official story. Now Perry knew the truth. Kent wouldn't have been injured by debris if he hadn't been lifting an expanding kryptonite continent and launching it into a solar orbit.

"I'm fine now, Perry," Clark said evenly. Obviously he didn't want to talk about it and Perry knew why.

Perry took a sip of coffee. He really didn't know how to start. Not only that, his heart was starting to pound again. Meeting Superman one-on-one….No. He couldn't think that way. He was meeting _Clark Kent_ one-on-one. Clark Kent, a reporter who worked for him. Clark Kent, a man who had been to AA meetings with him, who had proven his character a hundred times.

An anecdote he'd heard once about the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous came to mind. Dr. Robert Smith, co-founder of AA, had been a rectal and proctologic specialist. He was a remarkably good surgeon – when he was sober. His colleagues knew of the doctor's drinking, but in the medical-professional world of the 1930's, covered for him, hiding his problem from the public. Amongst themselves, however, well aware of Dr. Bob's drinking, they snickered, "When you go to Dr. Smith you really bet your ass!"

Perry forced himself to take a deep breath. For some reason, he felt like he was betting his ass here. Things were going to change no matter what.

"I have two things to tell you," Perry began again.

Clark quirked an eyebrow. He was really very good about inviting confidences, Perry thought. Maybe that's why he got so many good stories. Aside from the Superman thing, of course.

"Jason is your son," Perry blurted out.

"I know," Clark said. He smiled. Perry saw joy, excitement, wonder, in the smile. Then Clark's smile faded and he looked weary.

"What? How did you know?" Perry asked, surprised. How _did _Clark know? He certainly hadn't known before.

"How did _you _know?" Clark challenged Perry.

"You have the same eyes," Perry said, startled into the truth. "And the body shape is the same…when you two are together, it's obvious."

"That's interesting," Clark muttered, lost in thought. "I never knew…" He took a sip of coffee, focused on Perry, and asked, "What's the second thing?"

Perry swallowed. He kept his eyes on Clark's, not looking away. "I know about…." He looked at Doris and the other waitresses not far away. "…about your moonlighting. About your second job."

Clark froze for just a moment. His eyes widened. "Second job?" he asked quietly.

Perry matched the quiet tone. "The one where you wear the blue suit."

Clark lowered his head. He took off his glasses, laying them neatly on the table. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, rubbed at the corners of his eyes. Then he looked up.

Perry found himself meeting eyes of startling blueness, piercing him with a gimlet stare. Clark smoothed his face into impassivity, squared his shoulders. At that moment, Perry saw Superman. Perry wondered how he could have ever missed it before. The Man of Steel sat opposite him in a diner, one hand caressing a coffee cup.

An uncomfortable silence lingered, and Perry's heart began to beat faster. Clark hadn't denied it, and Perry knew it was true. But what would Clark do? He'd obviously gone to some lengths to cultivate the dual identity. At that moment, Perry's journalistic instincts came to the fore. He pushed with the bulldog tenacity that had gotten him interviews no one else could get.

"And I figure you owe me an interview, at least." Perry gestured. "At least some sort of explanation…_Clark._" He concealed his agitation under his reporter persona, but he was uncomfortably aware that there was no concealing the racing heart, the quick breathing from his companion. Silence fell again.

Then Clark stirred. "Yes, Perry, you're right." He did something Perry didn't expect. He smiled. It was a smile Perry hadn't seen on Clark's face before. A wide, open, sunny smile. Instinctively, Perry found himself smiling back.

Clark looked behind him at the gaggle of waitresses. "But somewhere more private, I think?" he asked.

Perry nodded.

Clark gestured to their waitress. "Doris, can we get this coffee to go? Something's come up and we have to leave." He handed her a large-denomination bill.

"Sure, Clark," Doris said. A few minutes bustling and they were out on the sidewalk, Clark clutching "to-go" cups of coffee. Clark strode carefully to an area of the street that Perry realized was out of view of most of the shops and buildings.

Clark turned to speak to Perry. "I don't think this is really appropriate for the _Daily Planet _either, Perry." Already, Clark used a more confident tone contrasted with the usual diffident high-pitched voice that he usually employed. He advanced a little toward Perry. "I can take us somewhere…"

Perry saw the tall man approaching. Suddenly fear overcame him. He flashed back to when the three rogue Kryptonians in his office grabbed him. They loomed over him. He was powerless, he was a toy in their grasp. Why did they do bad things to him? Because they could. And Superman could too. He shrank back from Clark.

Clark caught the subtle withdrawal. He stopped. Perry saw a flash of understanding in his eyes, then a deep, sad weariness. Clark continued as if he hadn't noticed, "…or we can just walk around town."

Perry felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Clark," he said roughly. "No, I'll go with you." He'd hurt a good friend, he realized that now. This dual-identity thing confused him. Sometimes he saw Clark, employee, friend, and equal in the fight against addiction. And then, flickering in, never staying, disconcertingly, would be glimpses of the stern and majestic Last Son of Krypton.

Clark gave him a searching glance. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Perry straightened his shoulders. "I'm sure," he said. He carefully didn't ask where they were going. He figured he'd forfeited that right.

"OK, then," Clark said quietly. He gave Perry one cup of coffee to hold, keeping the other in his own grasp. Then Clark looked all around. _Checking for witnesses, _Perry realized. Apparently everything was clear, because he advanced to Perry and wrapped his arm around the older man's waist. It felt odd to Perry to have this close contact with another man.

"Look at me," Clark advised. Perry turned his head toward Clark, inward, his head at the taller man's chin.

The world blurred.

Clark released his grip. Perry looked around. No sign of the tall buildings, the full streetfronts of Metropolis. Instead, open fields, marked off by careful fences, met his view. A nearby barn glowed reddish-brown in the evening twilight. Perry turned around to see himself standing at the front door of a yellow-painted house. He took a deep breath, steadying his weak knees by sheer force of will. His hand trembled, sloshing the coffee in its covered cup.

"OK?" Clark asked, reaching out to grasp one arm to steady Perry.

"Yeah," Perry breathed. "I knew you could do that, but I didn't really _know_ it till now," he said, "if you know what I mean." The editor in him castigated himself for redundancy, but he couldn't say anything more. "Where am I? Where are we?"

Clark smiled. "You may not recognize the Kent Farm, Perry." His expansive gesture took in a great deal of acreage. "I think it's been quite a few years since you were here."

Vague memories arose. "I think I got thrown out the last time I was here."

Clark laughed out loud. "Nah, not last time. The first time you were here. Well, you're invited in today." He reached for the doorknob. "Come in."

Perry found himself in a sun-filled room. He sat down weakly at the kitchen table, coming to grips with the undeniable fact that he'd been whisked to a destination ninety minutes from Metropolis in a few seconds.

Clark pulled a mug from a cupboard, and pouted Perry's cup of coffee into it. He put the coffee in front of Perry. The editor stared at it, seeing the logo of a Craftsman-style home embossed on the side of the mug. Underneath the logo of the house was the motto: "I drank at Dr. Bob's." On the other side of the cup was the AA logo, the triangle within the circle. Perry picked up the mug and took a small sip of coffee.

Clark moved slowly and carefully. He began making small talk, seeming to realize that Perry was in a minor state of shock.

"Yeah, my mother asked me to take care of the house for a few days." He pulled up a chair and sat on one side of the table. "She came to Metropolis while I was…when I was sick." Perry caught a glimpse of pain behind that careful statement. "Then, when I got better, she wanted to spend a few days in the city, so I said I'd keep an eye on things. She'll get a few days vacation."

Perry croaked something.

Clark continued cheerfully. "And it's not like it's a tough commute for me. And I still don't have an apartment in Metropolis - "

"You don't?" Perry interrupted.

"Well, Perry, I've been kind of busy," Clark said gently. "I'm just happy I can drop by here at times." He sipped his coffee. "Of course, I've got to get my own place pretty soon. I'm a little old to be living with my mother." He seemed in a playful mood.

He took Perry's coffee cup from the older man's unprotesting hands. "Coffee getting cold?" Perry saw Clark pull down his glasses, saw Clark's eyes take on a reddish tinge. Then the aromatic scent of hot coffee filled the room. Clark pushed the cup back to Perry, whose fingers flinched at the first touch of the heated cup.

"Why are you doing this?" Perry blurted.

"What?" Clark asked.

"Showing off everything. Doing what you're doing."

Clark gave Perry an even stare. "Well, Perry, you've figured out my secret. The cat's out of the bag now. I guess I just want to do things for my friends." Then, in a serious voice that belied his playful expression, Clark said, "And I want to talk to you."

_Aha! _cried the inner reporter part of Perry. It was the part that recognized scoops, sifted out self-justifying shadowings from truthful fact, teased out hidden stories from mouths previously silent as the tomb. Perry suddenly felt more confident. They were on familiar ground.


	23. Step Twelve, Part Four

_Author's note: This section of the story is set after the close of the movie "Superman Returns". That is, Superman has been away on a trip to Krypton for five years, and has come back to Earth to find that Lois Lane has a son. And he is that child's father._

_Credit also to EllenF for her excellent fanfic, "Shades of White" (see her website at ellyfanfiction dot blogspot dot com) where I stole the idea that Clark's hands healed overnight. _

_The flashbacks in this chapter reference the "Smallville" TV show episode "Perry"._

* * *

_Aha! _cried the inner reporter part of Perry. It was the part that recognized scoops, sifted out self-justifying shadowings from truthful fact, teased out hidden stories from mouths previously silent as the tomb. Perry suddenly felt more confident. They were on familiar ground.

Before he could start, Clark took the conversational lead.

"Perry?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to ask you a few questions first." A firm tone, one that Perry wouldn't dream of disobeying.

"OK."

Clark fiddled nervously with his coffee cup, avoiding Perry's glance. "How did you figure it out?" He looked up and smiled at Perry. "I mean, about my second job?"

Perry answered honestly. "I was watching TV, they were playing Superman footage, and suddenly I just realized that Superman, um, looked familiar. I mean, it was obvious. He _was _you, just without the glasses."

"Um," said Clark. He took a sip of coffee and asked another question. "Perry, do you remember why you came to Smallville the first time? I mean, back when you were working for _X-Styles_?" Clark referred to the tabloid TV show, fabled for its "freaks and geeks" emphasis.

Perry frowned. He hadn't thought about that in years. He said slowly, "Well, I needed some quick crap to round out a show, and about three seconds on the Web showed me I could get filler here. You know, meteor freaks, strange powers, et cetera."

"And how did we meet?" Clark persisted.

"You…you…" Perry tried remembering. However it was they had met, it was in a gray fog at the back of his mind. He just couldn't recall it. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten that."

"And weren't you going to do a story on me?" Clark said intently.

_That _cleared away some of the fog. "Yeah! I was!" Perry said.

In an even tone, Clark asked, "Why?"

"Why? Uh, you were…um…" Perry floundered for an answer. It wasn't there.

"You don't remember, do you?" Clark asked.

"No," Perry confessed in a low voice. "I guess the drinking really got to me…you know, I was having blackouts at the end."

"What if I told you that you were doing a story on me because you saw me doing some weird stuff?" Clark challenged.

Perry closed his eyes. Something here seemed familiar…something teased at the edges of his brain. Without opening his eyes, he said, "Weird stuff? Go on."

Clark continued. "Stuff like appearing in front of you on the road, so that you ran into a telephone pole to keep from hitting me."

Perry rubbed his forehead. Now that Clark had said it, the memory sprang to vivid life. He'd been seriously drunk, and handling a map, a cell phone, and his flask all at once. Then this kid just…_appeared_…and he'd swerved in a panic.

"And a tractor falling out of the sky," Clark said, with a hint of a laugh.

God, how could he have forgotten _that_? He'd just raised his flask to his lips to take a drink when a thunderous crash announced the arrival of a tractor. Falling from the air, and shattering into a million pieces on landing.

"How could I have forgotten that?" Perry whispered. He shook his head in dismay.

Clark didn't respond to Perry's comment. "You remember the whole bungee-jumping off the bridge thing, don't you?" he prompted.

"I do remember that," Perry said stoutly. "I was faking a suicide attempt – I thought you'd show your powers." _And why hadn't he? _Perry asked himself. He'd have to ask Clark about that. But the fact remained that, at that time, Clark hadn't displayed any superpowers at all. Perry could still remember his shame at the thought that he'd almost killed them both. "You hung on a rope to save me….Your hands were bleeding…" _And that's when I decided to change my life._

"But do you remember shaking my hand the next day, when you were leaving on the bus?" Clark said intently, leaning forward.

No, actually, Perry hadn't remembered that till Clark mentioned it. But now he did. "Your hands…they were healed," Perry said slowly.

Clark leaned back in his chair. "What made you realize…you know, about me, Perry?" he asked.

Perry stared back at him for a moment. "I saw some Superman footage on TV – a retrospective about all his – all your – greatest feats and rescues. And it was you. I mean, it was obvious." He frowned. "Why didn't I notice that before?" He turned to Clark. "Clark, ask me about people in the newsroom."

"Den McClain," Clark said obediently.

"Has a gambling problem, is in debt up to his eyeballs," Perry said.

"Louie Whitaker," Clark added.

"His mother just had a stroke, he and his wife are working on some long-term care," Perry said absently.

"Cheri Lemon," Clark continued.

"Our Mystery Diner – the word's getting out, though, and she won't be able to be a Mystery for much longer," Perry said. Irritated, he added, "She likes Thai food, always gives those restaurants a better review than they deserve." Then Perry said wonderingly, "I thought I knew a lot about the reporters in my newsroom. How come I didn't notice that Superman was working two desks over?"

Clark smiled slightly. He scratched his head. "Well, Perry…"

"Yes?"

"Three reasons." Clark ruffled his hair again, brought his hand down to his glasses and removed them. "First, Superman is an alien without friends or family. He wears a fancy getup. He doesn't have pictures of his mother on his desk. You really wouldn't expect him to be working two desks over." He leaned a little forward. "And people see what they expect to see."

"That's the truth," Perry conceded.

"Except you, Perry," Clark said. "You're a noticing kind of guy."

Perry shrugged.

"Secondly," Clark continued, "I've put a lot of thought and work into differentiating my two personas. Superman stands up straight, he's pretty humorless, doesn't say much. He's a little aloof. He talks in that deep baritone. And Clark – well, you know me, Perry. I slouch, I speak in kind of high tenor, I make small talk in the newsroom. I fall down a lot. I drop stuff. My tie falls into my coffee. I keep a picture of my mother on my desk." He smiled. "And I use my abilities to appear a split second after Superman leaves, so people think we're there the same time."

Perry hadn't thought about this, not being on the street chasing the Superman interviews. On reflection, though, he figured it would work. Subconsciously, people "knew" the impossibility of the quick change, even though consciously they understood that Superman had super-speed. But, since everyone saw Clark as human, they never gave a thought to the fact that he and Superman never appeared together – because Clark made it seem that they did.

"And thirdly…" Clark said, almost reluctantly.

"Yes?" Perry asked intently. His reporter instincts were tingling. "What?"

"Well…um…" Clark placed his glasses gently on the table. "You've been _made _to not notice." His gaze skittered away.

"_Made_ notto?" Perry asked. He had a bad feeling about this.

Clark leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Look at the glasses."

Perry picked them up, ran his hands over the dorky black frames, looked through the thick lenses, grimacing at the blurry field of vision produced by the strength of the prescription. "OK, I've looked. What?"

Clark gave a thin smile. "They're sort of like me, Perry. An outward simplicity conceals inner complexity."

Perry must have gawked in incomprehension, because Clark leaned forward again and began speaking more rapidly.

"Advanced Kryptonian technology, Perry."

Perry gave Clark a disbelieving glance. "Go on."

"These glasses make it impossible for anyone to notice the resemblance between Clark Kent and Superman," Clark said flatly.

"OK," Perry said slowly. Glasses as a disguise? What a lame idea. Frankly, he would have laughed Clark out of the newsroom for saying that. If it hadn't been for the nagging in his mind – how_ had_ he failed to notice that Superman worked for him? Failed to notice it for not months, but years?

"I mean it, Perry," Clark said. "They put out some sort of field, or rearrange reality, or do something. But the end result is that no one connects Clark Kent and Superman. And biometric computer programs don't link the two. Fingerprints, retina scans, facial recognition programs – because of these glasses – " he gestured toward the innocent-looking frames – "Clark Kent's identity is secure. It works for profiling too," he continued. "Why doesn't anyone put Superman sightings on a map with pins? Why haven't they discovered a concentration around the _Daily Planet _building? Why no statistical analysis of Superman's appearances and rescues?" He pointed again at the glasses. "They make it so people just don't think about doing that."

Perry stared at the glasses. "How does it work? How do they do it?" he asked, a tinge skeptically.

"At first, I didn't know," Clark conceded. "When I took my five-year trip to Krypton – or where Krypton had been – " he grimaced. " – I had a lot of time to study. I learned a lot. I don't think I can explain it, Perry."

"Why not?" Perry asked, in his best bulldog-newspaperman voice.

"You ever taken a foreign language, Perry?" Clark asked.

"Yeah, why?" Perry asked, stumbling at the rapid change of subject.

"Then you know you have to study it for awhile, and after some time, if you get good, you eventually start thinking in it." Clark gestured to the glasses. "And sometimes there's a concept or object in the other language that we don't have in English." He smiled. "Since humans have a commonality of interests and possibilities, usually English just borrows the word for the new concept or object, when we need it."

"Uh-huh," Perry agreed.

Clark continued. "So, I learned to think in Kryptonian on my five-year mission. By the way, do you know that there was only one planetary language on Krypton?"

"No. Go on," Perry said shortly. Inwardly he was interested and he made a mental note to pump Clark about Krypton later on.

"Anyway, I learned how the technology behind the glasses actually works," Clark said. "But all the concepts behind it are in Kryptonian, and I can't translate them into English. It truly is alien technology. We just don't have the ideas, we don't have the right mindset, to understand it."

"I'm grateful for that _we_," Perry said wryly.

Clark looked abashed. "Well, I think of myself as an Earth native," he said softly.

A ghost of memory from the past swept through Perry's mind. "Clarke's Law," he murmured.

"What?" his companion asked.

"Clarke's Law. Those glasses are it," Perry said. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Suddenly he found himself believing what his reporter had said. Absurd as it sounded, the glasses _could _serve as a disguise.

"Yep, that's it," Clark agreed. "And Kryptonian technology is pretty advanced. It amazes me sometimes, and I've become pretty familiar with it."

Perry gave a small chuckle. "I'd rather believe in magic glasses than believe that I was so stupid that I didn't notice you, um, were moonlighting for all those years."

Clark shrugged. "I'm sorry, Perry. You were _made _to not notice. Believe me, without that backup, I wouldn't have dared to go public."

Perry sat, thinking, for a moment. Thoughts clamored for attention. He grabbed the biggest one. "So why am I noticing now?" He stared Clark straight in the eye.

To his credit, Clark didn't flinch from the editorial glare. "Because I turned it off for you, Perry."

Perry leaned back and nodded slowly, mind awhirl. "Turned it off?" he murmured. Suddenly he found himself growing angry. "I'm sure that was great fun to you," he said bitterly. "Look at all the little humans missing the obvious. Just play with their minds, why don't you?"

Clark looked stricken. "It's not like that, Perry!" he cried.

"Uh-huh," Perry said skeptically.

Clark almost sputtered in his attempt to convince Perry. "It's really not like that! I didn't know at first – I didn't know!" He halfway got up out of his chair. "Jor-El just gave them to me and told me to use them! I didn't figure them out till now!"

Perry stared at _the alien_, refusing to think of him as Clark Kent right now. All he could feel was white-hot anger, growing larger as Perry realized slowly how much had been taken from him. He slammed his coffee cup down on the wooden table and got up. Clark made an abortive move to get up as well, stopping when Perry glared at him. Pacing around the room, Perry asked, "So I've been _made _not to notice. And I think you've taken some of my memories as well –isn't that true?"

Clark recoiled. Later on, Perry would laugh at the sight of the Man of Steel squirming in his chair.

"Yes," Clark said, almost too softly for Perry to hear. "I'm sorry." He tore his gaze away from Perry's and stared down into his coffee cup, his shoulders hunched, head down.

Perry thought about throwing something. He hadn't been this angry in a long time. He found himself grasping his coffee cup, knuckles white. He looked over at Clark, who had raised his eyes from his rapt concentration of the wood grain of the table. Clark sat quietly, making no move.

The anger drained from Perry as he realized that if he threw the cup at Clark, the younger man would not dodge, would take it. _And it wouldn't hurt him anyway, _Perry thought. At the thought, a reluctant smile twisted his lips. _Am I in kindergarten here, anyway? Throwing coffee cups! _

Clark interjected a murmured comment, solemnly. "I ask your forgiveness for that."

Perry made himself sit down. What Clark had said came back to him. He was still angry, not ready to forgive, yet. But enough of his ire had faded that he was willing to listen.

"Jor-El? You didn't know?" Suddenly, crazily, Perry found himself recalling _I Love Lucy_. In a fake Cuban accent, he said, "Clark, you've got some 'splainin' to do!"

Clark shrugged, and un-hunched slightly, realizing that Perry was at least willing to talk to him now. "OK, Perry," he said softly. "But I'll warn you now, it's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere," Perry retorted. Then they both smiled as they remembered how they'd gotten to Smallville. That was the weirdest thing, thought Perry. How he could tell that he and Clark were thinking the same thing at the same time? Clark was alien and he was human. And yet they thought alike.

"You want more coffee?" Clark asked. At Perry's nod, he got up and poured. "Dinner? We never got to eat at the Delmar."

"You putting this off?" Perry challenged him.

"Um, yes," Clark admitted. "But I'll bet you're hungry." As if in reply, Perry's stomach gave a low growl. "We can get some carryout. I'll tell you over dinner. Chinese?"

Perry shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. But I eat meat. Don't get me any of that vegan crap that Lois likes. No tofu."

A ghost of a smile played on Clark's lips. "Cashew chicken? Mongolian beef? Pepper steak?"

"They all sound good," Perry agreed. "I like egg drop soup."

"OK," Clark said.

Perry had a second thought. "Will they deliver out here? To the farm?"

Clark cast a mischievous glance at Perry. "Oh, don't worry about delivery, Perry. I'll go and pick it up." There was a blur and a breeze. Perry's mouth dropped as Superman stood in front of him. "From China." And he was gone.

Perry stood, dumbfounded, as the screen door slammed closed. "That son-of-a-bitch."


	24. Step Twelve, Part Five

_Author's note: This episode is set after the end of the movie "Superman Returns", but it makes reference to events in the "Smallville" TV episodes "Commencement" (Season Four) and "Arrival" (Season Five)._

* * *

Perry sat back down at the kitchen table. Floating dust particles danced in the beam from the setting sun. The quiet soothed Perry's racing heart. He put his head in his hands, feeling the throbbing veins in his temples.

It took ten minutes, long enough for Perry to regain his equilibrium. Clark came back, bearing containers with delicious smells. "Ten minutes?" he asked Clark, able to tease him now. Clark was out of the Suit. That helped. "That long?"

"Most of that was standing in line to pay," Clark retorted. "You want chopsticks?"

"Nah, I'll stay with a fork and spoon for this one," Perry replied. A momentary silence as Clark puttered around the kitchen, getting out plates and utensils, offering Perry a choice of water or lemonade.

The two men ate their dinner in silence. After a few minutes, Perry leaned back in his chair. "That was pretty good." He stared straight at Clark. "Now, start talking."

Kent looked sheepish. "I don't really know where to start, Perry."

Perry took a deep breath. "I'm not happy about the memory loss." He saw Kent grimace. "But you said, you didn't know? What do you mean?"

Clark sighed. "Here it is from the beginning, Perry. Ask questions if you will." He caught Perry's eye, and Perry knew the other man would answer fully. "I got the glasses from Jor-El at the Fortress of Solitude – "

"Whoa. Stop right there. Jor-El? Fortress of Solitude?" Perry asked.

Clark sighed again. "OK, I'll go back further. The Fortress, um…this goes back a while. You remember that Smallville was hit with a meteor shower?"

"Twice, wasn't it?" Perry asked.

Clark smiled bitterly. "Yep. The first one was when I came to Earth. I was…young."

Perry felt his eyebrows raise. He'd known that Clark had a past, a childhood. But connecting this with Superman, who'd appeared as an adult…all new. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his notebook and pen. "Go on," he said.

Clark said, "And the second one was sixteen years later. I was a senior in high school. And, um, it's a long story that I'll go into at some other time, but during the meteor shower, I ended up with a Kryptonian crystal. You know, Kryptonian technology is based on crystals. And I got an important one."

"_That _sounds interesting," Perry said noncommittally. After seeing what Lex Luthor had done, he thought it sounded more frightening than interesting.

Clark nodded. "I ended up in the Arctic, and threw it into the snow." His eyes were distant as he relived the memory. "It grew into a…a…well, I call it my Fortress of Solitude. It's a re-creation of a Kryptonian, um, dwelling? Library? Museum? I'm really not sure." He took a sip of coffee. "What I do know, is that it's for me. It's private."

"Fascinating," Perry said, making some quick notations in his notebook, scrawling a combination of drastic abbreviations, keywords, and personal shorthand.

Clark went on. "As I said before, Kryptonian technology was based on crystals. Somehow they used them to manipulate forces, do things that we can't do yet here on Earth."

"Uh-huh," Perry muttered, making more scrawlings.

"And, when the Fortress grew from the single crystal I had, it developed an artificial intelligence." Perry raised his eyebrows as Clark continued. "The AI runs the place. It has power, not just at the Fortress, but, I think, power that can extend over this whole world, in some ways. It's done some things…" Perry caught his breath as Clark continued. "This AI, it thinks of itself, it calls itself, Jor-El." Clark stared straight at Perry. "My biological father."

Perry froze. "Oh," he said weakly. Revelations coming thick and fast here. He took refuge in his reporter persona. "How do you spell that?" he asked.

"What?" Clark asked, momentarily nonplussed.

"Jor-El. I really hate to misspell people's names."

Clark stared at Perry's notebook, sick fascination in his eyes. "You're not going to publish…." His voice trailed off.

Perry looked up at Clark. The other man sat still, tension in his posture. Perry caught a glimpse of Clark's eyes and had a sudden flash of understanding.

Clark had offered, at the diner in Metropolis, to take Perry somewhere else for their conversation. At that time, Perry had had a sudden fear, knowing he was in this man's power and he couldn't get away. Right then, he'd backed off in fright. Momentarily, to be sure, but even his long friendship with Clark hadn't stopped him from the instinctive move. Knowing that Clark could destroy him, if he chose.

And now Clark had that same feeling, Perry realized. Perry, if he chose to publish, could destroy Clark's life. It all blossomed in Perry's head, the power he now held over the Man of Steel. And, just like Perry had felt, being ninety-nine percent sure that the other meant you no harm, didn't keep you from being scared about the other one percent. He felt a sudden sympathy for Clark.

Perry realized abruptly that he'd left Clark without a response for several minutes. "No, I'm not going to publish," he said gently. "I wouldn't do that, Clark. You know that." He gestured at his notebook. "This whole thing is so weird." He gave a short laugh. "I'm taking refuge in the basics. Get the interview. Put the personal feelings aside till later." He gave Clark a look. "_You_ know that, I'm sure."

The other acknowledged with a reluctant smile.

Perry went on. "I _have _to write it down. Then, at the end, I'll rip out the pages and give them to you. You can burn them or whatever."

"Thanks, Perry," Clark said softly. He gathered himself, visibly, and went on. "Um, it's spelled J-O-R-hyphen-Capital E-L."

"Jor-El", Perry repeated, writing it in his notebook. He looked up. "Your biological father?"

"It thinks of itself as my bio father, yes," Clark repeated evenly. "But some of the things it's done…" his eyes looked inward for a moment, "are things no father could or should do. At least no _human_ father," he said bitterly. "I'm glad I grew up on Earth if that's what Kryptonian families were like."

Perry only nodded.

"Anyway," Clark said, recalling himself from whatever painful memories he'd been reliving, "I knew I had these abilities. And my father – Jonathan Kent, who I think of as my _real _father, Perry, and my mother, they were both very big on helping. So I got to a certain point in my life and decided that it was time to go public. Instead of keeping to the shadows, which I had been doing for years."

Perry nodded again. He understood much now. "But if you were out in the open, how could you have a life?" He knew only too well the churning seas of paparazzi. An alien with superpowers was fresh chum to those bloodthirsty sharks.

"You understand, Perry," Clark said. "Lois came up with the idea of a secret identity. She said it was in the best literary tradition." He smiled fondly. "And I said to her, 'You can't have a secret identity these days – we all get monitored and video'ed and computerized to within an inch of our lives.' And she said, 'Well, maybe Jor-El could help out with some super-duper Kryptonian whizbang tricks.'" His voice caught. Perry saw that Clark felt strongly about something here.

Clark collected himself and went on. "So I went up to the Fortress and told Jor-El what I was going to do."

"How'd he take it?" Perry asked, fascinated.

"Not all that well," Clark said. "He had some idea that I'd be Earth's conqueror." He looked away from Perry and began polishing the lenses of his glasses, ignoring Perry's sharp intake of breath. "I told him, No, in big letters, No, a thousand times, No." Clark held the glasses up to the light, checking the lenses. "I don't know why I bother doing that," he said quietly. "These lenses never need cleaning." He laid the glasses gently on the table. "I can't lose them, either."

"So conquering the Earth was out," Perry said, just a little shakily. He knew Superman could have done that. _But he didn't. He wouldn't. _Zod had tried, and Superman had stopped him.

"Yep. Right out," Clark agreed. "So I put the Superman idea in front of Jor-El, and told him I needed something to separate my private identity from the superhero. Something that would fool people, and cameras, and computers, and just about everything else we could imagine. I suppose a Kryptonian AI could imagine more stuff than we ever could," Clark said softly. "And after a whole lot of cajoling and wheedling – and being firm about the No Conquering thing – the AI produced the glasses, told me they'd do what I wanted." He turned the glasses upside down, spun them gently on the hard wood of the table. "Actually, it was Lois who came up with the idea of glasses," Clark murmured.

"She always did have good ideas," Perry replied. Clark stayed quiet. The silence rose between them until Perry was compelled to ask, "So, then what happened?"

"I found out that the glasses worked. They worked wonderfully," Clark said. Perry found himself wondering at the bitter tone in Clark's voice. Clark kept his eyes down, not looking at Perry. "It was a monkey's paw wish," he said. "You know, the kind of wish, where when you get it, you wish you hadn't wished it?"

"Um, yes," Perry said hesitantly.

"I found out, sure, the glasses kept acquaintances and strangers from noticing anything odd about me. They wouldn't connect Clark Kent with Superman." Clark stared at the glasses on the table with a weird mixture of fondness and hatred. "But the people who actually knew me…knew me well…people who knew that I was an alien, or who had actually seen me use my powers….it erased all their memories of that." Self-loathing and bitterness were in Clark's voice.

"Uh…" Perry couldn't say anything else.

"Jor-El told me that the effect wouldn't be triggered until I put them on the first time." Clark looked down to stare at the glasses once more. Perry saw the careful glance and was reminded of a man sitting next to a sleeping tiger – not panicked, but watchful.

"That first time was in your office, Perry, the day you made Editor-In-Chief. I put these glasses on, that day, and stared at you through them." Clark said. "And they wiped out your memories of me. Some of your memories, anyway. Obviously the ones of me doing, um, inhuman things."

Perry's mind was awhirl. Anger at the violation mixed with understanding and relief. At least that explained why he hadn't noticed that Superman was working in his newsroom for all these years. He wasn't washed up. And it sounded as if Clark hadn't really intended what had happened. Then Perry breathed in deeply as he understood something. "Lois?" he asked.

"Lois," Clark breathed. "That was the hardest thing of all." He took a deep breath, got up, and walked to the window. He stood with his back to Perry, watching the setting sun.

"Lois was, is, my closest friend. She discovered my secret when we were seniors in high school, at the time of the second meteor shower in Smallville," Clark said. Perry saw Clark holding himself stiffly. "She managed to follow me to the Arctic – " _there's a __**big **__story there, _thought Perry, " – right after the Fortress had been constructed." Clark turned around, sat down wearily at the kitchen table again.

"I think Jor-El hated her from the beginning," Clark said. "There I was, in this forty-story igloo." Perry raised his eyebrows at the description, but Clark didn't pause. "The Fortress was new and exciting, and I really didn't know much about myself or my origins. Jor-El wanted me to begin my training, urgently. Training in Kryptonian ways and thoughts," he said at Perry's questioning look.

"Then, in stumbles Lois, or Chloe as she was called then," Clark said. Another questioning look from Perry, and Clark added, "OK, she'd been teleported to the Arctic from a Kansas summer day."

"Right," Perry said, amazed at the casual mention of teleportation, but not wanting to interrupt any more than he already had. _Get the story. _

"So, there I am, at the Fortress which was modeling Krypton. I was standing in some sort of virtual reality training chamber, while Chloe – while Lois was freezing six feet away." Clark shook his head. "Thank God I heard her calling me. I was able to break out of the simulation. I had to get her to a hospital before she froze to death."

"Obviously you did," Perry said lamely. He kicked himself. Could he say anything more stupid?

Clark's face was grim. "Jor-El was mad at her then for interrupting my training, and he's never liked her since." Then Clark's face relaxed into a smile. "He's always blaming Lois for giving me improper ideas."

"Improper?" Perry asked.

"Yeah, improper. Ideas like not being a conqueror and being a superhero instead." Clark's eyes danced. "Ideas like having a secret identity."

"Um, well, I think it worked out pretty well," Perry offered. Heck, Superman had been a fixture for over ten years.

Clark's smile disappeared. Pain crossed his face. "Not really," he said, his voice flat. "When I put on the glasses for the first time, they wiped out everything. All her memories of me. All our days together. The times I took her flying, right after I learned how to fly. The times I saved her life, and the times she saved mine. Helping me through my training. Working together, at the _Planet. _ The one person that I was closest to, my best friend, the woman I loved." Clark clenched his fist. Perry saw the knuckles were white. The carefully controlled fury awed Perry more than destruction of the furniture would have. "Jor-El took that from us. He got his revenge on Lois."

* * *

_Author's notes: "Most of that was standing in line to pay" – this comment is a tribute to the excellent (and very funny) fanfic "Thirty Minutes or Less" by butterflykiki at (butterflykiki dot livejournal dot com/57750.html). (This site won't allow me to post a link so use a "." where I write "dot".) Don't miss it._

_Jor-El told Clark to "rule them with strength" in "Smallville" TV episodes "Calling" and "Exodus". _

_The "monkey's paw" wish is a reference to the chilling story "The Mon__key's Paw". Written over a hundred years ago, it still has the power to frighten. Find it at __http colon slash slash gaslight dot mtroyal dot ab dot ca/mnkyspaw.htm. Don't miss this story either.  
_


	25. Step Twelve, Part Six

Clark's smile disappeared. Pain crossed his face. "Not really," he said, his voice flat. "When I put on the glasses for the first time, they wiped out everything. All her memories of me. All our days together. The times I took her flying, right after I learned how to fly. The times I saved her life, and the times she saved mine. Helping me through my training. Working together, at the _Planet. _ The one person that I was closest to, my best friend, the woman I loved." Clark clenched his fist. Perry saw the knuckles were white. The carefully controlled fury awed Perry more than destruction of the furniture would have. "Jor-El took that from us. He got his revenge on Lois."

"You were there, Perry," Clark said, turning his gaze back on the older man's. "It was right after you moved into the Chief Editor's office. I was going to get the glasses established, and then I was – we were - going to debut Superman that night. Lois would have gotten the exclusive." Clark smiled; Perry noticed bitterness, again, in the smile. "It was going to be a congratulations gift – the most exciting story of the decade – to commemorate your arrival as Editor-in-Chief."

"Well, thanks for that, anyway," Perry murmured, sinking back into his chair. He rallied himself to say, "Don't short yourself, Clark. The decade? Heck, Superman's debut was the story of the century!"

Clark just nodded. "Anyway, you were there, and Lois, and Cat Grant, when I put on the glasses for the first time." He looked down at the offending item in his hand. Sardonically, he added, "When everyone started falling unconscious, I realized that maybe there was a little problem."

Perry said nothing, although a tendril of memory uncoiled in the back of his brain.

"Lois hit her head when she fell down," Clark said. "That was the official excuse for her memory loss."

Another bit of recollection floated upward. Perry could remember bits and pieces of that day.

"Although it didn't matter much," Clark continued, "because pretty soon, with the Magic Reality-Altering Field that these glasses put out, nobody remembered or cared that Lois and I had a past together."

"You were in my office," Perry blurted out. "I remember thinking those glasses made you look like a total dork."

Clark smiled briefly. "It's part of the image."

"You had me touch a piece of meteor rock to the glasses."

Clark stopped handling the glasses and sat up straight. He looked sharply at Perry. "What else?" he asked slowly.

"In fact," Perry said, "I think I remember – Lois fell down, and you, you just, um, _blurred._ When you stopped blurring you had a box in your hand and it had a green meteor rock in it. You told me to touch the rock to Lois and to the glasses."

"I did," Clark said intently. He looked hopeful. "Do you remember anything else?"

"There was a class ring," Perry said slowly, "with a red rock in it. You had me touch that to Lois and the glasses too." More and more was coming back to him. "And then Cat threw the ring at you, you caught it, and then all of a sudden, you and Lois just vanished." Now he could remember the sheer oddness, no, the _impossibility _of what he'd seen. Impossible then – now understandable as a manifestation of Superman's powers.

"You remember that?" Clark whispered.

"Yeah, it's coming back to me in bits," Perry said, eyes unseeing as he sought more fragments. "Why'd you have me touch the rocks to the glasses?"

"That green meteor rock was kryptonite, Perry," Clark said. "It's destroyed or snafu'ed some of my home planet's technology in the past." Softly he said, "I thought it might be worth a try to see if it could get Lois' memories back. But it didn't." Then he sat up straighter again, and looked at Perry, a hint of excitement in his voice. "But you remember it now, don't you? You remember that day?"

Perry rubbed his eyes. "It's becoming more familiar…" He leaned forward, placed his head in his palm, rubbed his forehead. "Was there a dark room with a lot of marbles? Marbles in patterns?"

"Uh, not that I know of," Clark said cautiously.

"The marbles were knocked out of their patterns," Perry said peevishly. "I was there."

Understanding spread across Clark's face and he fought to keep himself from bursting into laughter. "So, Perry, when I inadvertently put the mind-whammy on you, you're saying you lost your marbles?"

Perry, lost in thought, just said, "Yes." Then he dragged himself back from the memory of that dark room, filled with marbles in astounding complex patterns, the patterns that became disrupted. He realized what Clark had said, and chuckled himself. "I guess you could say that I'm such an old newspaperman that I followed the cliché. Lost my marbles. Heh heh."

An intent look crossed Clark's face. "You know, Perry?"

"What?"

"You said the marbles were knocked out of their patterns." Clark had the scent now, Perry could tell. He'd seen Clark with this expression a hundred times – a story, a lead, a clue. "Were the marbles really lost?"

"Ye-" Perry stopped. _Were _the marbles lost? He thought back to the time in that dark room. Marbles were knocked down, patterns destroyed – but he realized, thinking hard, that the marbles all stayed within the room. "No. They were just jumbled. Out of order. Swept to the walls of the room. Not where they should be."

"So, when I make reference to that time," Clark said, "some of it comes back to you? You start remembering?"

Perry considered it. "I think so. Clark, I had no memory of that day in the office where you tried on the glasses until now. When you talked about it, it just came back to me. In bits and pieces, but it's mostly back."

Clark leaned forward intently. "The memories aren't lost, then," he breathed. "I might – Lois might – " he broke off.

Perry had an idea what this might mean to Clark. "You think Lois might remember, too?" he asked. "You sure about this?"

"No," Clark said in a desperate tone. "It's all I have, Perry." Hopefully, he asked, "If you can remember, maybe she can too?"

He got up, began pacing nervously. "So, there was Lois, not remembering anything. When the kryptonite didn't affect the glasses, I took her up to the Fortress. I demanded that Jor-El restore her memory." Clark fell silent.

"What happened?" Perry asked, fascinated.

"Obviously, Jor-El didn't," Clark spat. "He told me that this was all part of the work the glasses would do, and that if he reversed it for Lois, the whole thing would fall apart." He stopped pacing, grabbed the back of his chair tightly, facing Perry. "I had to negotiate like hell just to get him to make it so that the glasses wouldn't have the same effect on my mother. He said that was only possible because she hadn't seen me in the glasses yet."

"That…would have been bad," Perry admitted.

"Anyway, Perry, Jor-El said that was the best he could do. So it ended up that my mother didn't lose her memory, you lost some, and Lois, who was closest to me, lost everything. And so did I," he concluded softly.

Perry only nodded, understanding now. The two men sat silently for a moment.

"I forgive you, Clark," Perry said softly.

After hearing Clark's story, Perry _did_ forgive him for the memory loss. The law of unintended consequences had jumped up and bit Clark in the ass on this one. Perry was only collateral damage. Besides, after being in AA so long, Perry was getting better and better at forgiving. In years past, he would have nursed his resentment for months, taking a drink each time he thought about it. Now, he learned how to let things go. Forgiving others set himself free.

Clark looked at him in surprise. "Thank you, Perry," he said quietly. "That means a lot to me."

Perry nodded again. _Get back to the story. _"What next?" he asked.

"Well, you were pretty much there for all of it. Lois didn't know me anymore. In fact, I think she had some uneasiness around me – it was like she knew, underneath, that I'd taken something from her. She was pretty brusque with me for a long time."

"I do remember _that,_" Perry said, chuckling. The famous "Mad-Dog Lane" - no one could work with her. Only Clark had the persistence to stay with her, to jolly her along, to gradually earn her confidence, her trust.

"So I spent the next three years rebuilding a relationship with her," Clark said, echoing Perry's thoughts. "It was hard seeing her every day, knowing what we'd lost." He leaned forward again. "But it would have been harder to be without her."

Perry nodded. Lois grew on one. He thought back to the day she'd almost died in the plane crash – saved by the man across the table. Perry's life would have been much bleaker without Lois Lane in it.

"What was frustrating was that she had a crush for Superman," Clark said. "I don't know why. Maybe, underneath, she knew that she'd created Superman. She did, you know," he said to Perry. "She was the one who got me into the costume, got me using my abilities openly."

"I guess I realize that now," Perry said, as a memory of furtive conversations by the _Planet _coffeepot came back to mind. _What do they have in common? Don Diego de la Vega, Sir Percy Blakeney, and Clark Kent?_

"She fell for the man in the cape and couldn't see that he was right at the next desk over." Clark grimaced. "It was perfect irony. It was cruel and unusual punishment. It was poetic justice."

"Yes," Perry agreed, stunned at the bitterness in Clark's voice.

Clark went on. "I should have gone to the Fortress for my training then, and learned more about the technology."

"Why didn't you?" Perry asked.

"At first, I was just too angry at Jor-El. I stayed away for almost a year. Even though he told me it wouldn't work, I kept on trying things on Lois to try and get her to remember. And then I took on the role of Superman, and my life got a lot busier."

"I guess you could say that," Perry said, mind busy as he tried to calculate the number of Superman's rescues in the first few years. There were thousands. "How did you ever do your job at the _Planet _and wear the blue suit too?"

Clark shrugged. "Sometimes it was difficult." He didn't seem to want to talk about it. "So, I blew off my training, aside from the little bit I'd done before becoming Superman. After the whole memory loss/glasses fiasco, I didn't want to talk with Jor-El for a long time. In fact, I didn't talk to him until things came to a point where I absolutely had to go back to the Fortress." He paused.

Perry noticed their cups were empty. Clark had stopped his confidences, a faraway look on his face. Perry stretched, breaking into Clark's reverie.

"Can we go out and walk a bit?" Perry asked. It was definitely time to get moving. His joints were stiff after the long sit.

"Sure," Clark said after a moment. He ushered Perry out the side door, into the yard illuminated by the setting sun. He looked at the sky a moment and said, "It'll probably rain tomorrow morning."

"Superpower forecasting?" Perry asked lightly.

"No, just living on this farm all my life. When the sky gets that color, and the leaves on that tree – " Clark pointed to a mid-size ash – "get that appearance, I know rain is coming."

"Oh," Perry said. "Just regular observation."

"Well, that, and flying through a storm system to the west of here when I was out getting the food," Clark admitted.

"Oh. Of course," Perry said. "You know, your life is strange?"

Clark laughed out loud. "Uh-huh," he said.

The two men strode along the Kent Farm fields. After one glance at Perry's polished shoes, Clark considerately picked a manure-free, mostly mud-free path. They ended up a fair distance from the house, leaning on the fence, gazing at the symphony of color as the sun slid under the horizon.

"I don't do this enough, you know," Perry said.

"What?" Clark asked. "Confronting your reporters?"

"No, _that_ I do every day," Perry chuckled. "I mean, just standing, being still, just listening." He looked across at Clark and saw the other man understand him.

"I know what you mean, Perry," the tall reporter said. "It's so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day grind."

Perry took a minute to consider that it must be worse for Clark – always seeing tragedy, disaster, the worst in people. And that was only when he was in his _Planet _reporter persona, Perry thought cynically. _Superman_ had harder stuff, larger disasters, thrown at him.

Clark took a deep breath. "I like to go flying, really high. I stay up there in the stratosphere, and just watch the stars. They don't twinkle when you're that high, you know." He turned back to look at the sunset. "It's quiet up there, just floating."

"That must be nice," Perry murmured, not turning to look at the other man.

They remained in a companionable silence as twilight spread across the fields. Perry's heart slowed. His breathing calmed as peace crept up on him. Seeing the beauty of the Earth touched something deep inside him, that feeling of joyous wonder that he'd never really lost. Even though in his drinking days it had been buried pretty deeply. Getting sober had brought back his ability to touch it.

Clark gave him a questioning look, gestured to the path. Perry nodded, and followed the other man back through the darkening twilight back to the welcoming glow of the farmhouse kitchen.


	26. Step Twelve, Part Seven

_Author's note: This section makes reference to events in the movie "Superman II – The Donner Cut"._

* * *

They sat down at the kitchen table again, and Clark poured fresh coffee. "She found me out, you know," he said, breaking their silence.

_She _could only be Lois, Perry knew. "Um?" he said encouragingly.

"Lois. She's great," Clark said, a smile stealing onto his face. "Memories taken, Kryptonian technology suppressing the recognition, me acting like two different people – she figured me out despite all that."

Perry chuckled. "She _is _Lois Lane, you know."

"I know," Clark replied. He seemed lost in the past, looking at Perry but not seeing him.

Perry shifted his weight. "How did she do it, anyway, Clark? What did she do?" He had to know.

A fond smile stayed on Clark's lips. "I don't know how she figured it out. She had her suspicions. Then, when you sent us on that honeymoon scam expose in Niagara Falls, she took the opportunity."

"What?" Perry asked.

"She shot me," Clark said.

"_What?_" Perry asked, before realizing who he was speaking to.

"Yeah, Perry, she shot me. She said she was tired of putting her own life in danger and now it was time to put mine in danger." Clark was chuckling now. "So she shot me, and, obviously, no damage."

Perry gawped. "If you hadn't been Superman…"

Clark began laughing out loud. "I told her that too. If she'd been wrong, Clark Kent would have been dead. And she said, 'With blanks?'" Pride on his face, Clark finished, "She pinned me down good and proper. She was just so…so…._Lois_."

His voice took on a more serious tone. "Gosh, Perry, it was good to be open with her again. To let her see the real me."

"Why hadn't you told her before?" Perry asked.

"At first, because she disliked me," Clark said. "Subconsciously, I think, Lois knew I'd stolen something from her, and she was angry. And I was afraid to tell her. If I told her, I'd have to tell her everything, let her know that I'd stolen something precious from her, and that I couldn't give it back." He paused a moment. "Then, as we built a new relationship, I realized….I don't really know how to say this…it was sort of like a death in the family."

Perry gave the Man of Steel a questioning look.

"In a sense, the old Lois – the Lois that knew me, knew my secret, the Lois that was with me from middle school onward – was dead." Clark said this evenly. Apparently he'd thought about it for a long time. Dryly, he added, "The new Lois – she wasn't the old one. Obviously."

Clark shrugged his shoulders before turning his attention to his coffee cup. "I mourned the old Lois for a while. That was a hard time," Clark said softly. "Then I realized there was something new growing between us – something different than before. I didn't want to kill it before it really began, by dumping the attitudes and expectations of the past on it." He took another sip of coffee. "Both of us, in our ways, dealt with the loss of her past. She was different. _We _were different. In the time I spent with her, while she was annoyed by me, Clark Kent, bumbling reporter, I realized that." He shrugged again. "Everything had changed."

"I don't really know how to put this, Perry," Clark continued, "but somehow I felt I had to let Lois find out on her own." He leaned back, tipping his coffee mug to get the last few drops. "Or maybe I would have told her eventually – I'm not sure. All I know is that, even thought it was different from the friendship we had before, this friendship was good and true. And it would last. And it could maybe become something more." He got up, refilled his coffee cup. "It was a good thing she figured it out. I was getting to the point where I was working out scenarios on how to tell her. I just couldn't bring myself to do it right then."

Perry sat, stunned. So much was coming out. Clark was certainly in a confessing mood tonight. Apparently he'd decided to unburden his soul, once Perry figured out his dual identity.

Perry's mind swam, his world turned upside down. He fell back on reportorial instinct. "What happened next?" he asked. A good, basic, non-'yes-or-no' question.

Clark's eyes were unseeing as he stared out the window, lost in thought. "In a nutshell?"

Perry nodded.

"We flew to the Fortress. I gave up my powers."

Perry's eyes widened at the calm confession.

"We had three perfect days." Clark's voice mourned the end of that time.

Perry remained silent, holding his breath. Inwardly he thought, _That's when Jason was conceived._ Even though he'd never been one to surf the Internet boards about Superman, never joined in the prurient speculation as to whether the briefs came off, and could Superman actually…_you know_…with a human woman, he couldn't help but be aware of the question. The old "Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex" theory. It seemed as if Clark had had the same worries, thought Perry, if he'd felt he'd had to give up his abilities to…._be with_…Lois.

_Absolutely no way am I going to ask Clark about that. No effing way. _

"Giving up my powers caused damage to the Fortress," Clark went on, either unaware of, or ignoring, Perry's speculative glance. "The Fortress had been instrumental in keeping some Kryptonian criminals in…in prison."

"Prison?" Perry couldn't help asking.

"The Phantom Zone," Clark said. The words sounded harsh and unyielding.

"Phantom Zone?" Perry repeated.

"My father created it," Clark said. "I mean, Jor-El, before Krypton was destroyed. It's….it's…the best description is that it's an alternate dimension." He nodded grimly. "The worst criminals from the twenty-eight known galaxies were incarcerated there." He turned back to Perry, now focusing his attention, and smiled suddenly. "Basically, Perry, it's a high-tech Kryptonian slammer."

Perry chuckled at the sudden release of tension.

Clark went on. "When the Fortress…went down, three criminals escaped. _You _know who they were."

"Zod," Perry whispered. He thought back to that terrifying time when Zod had invaded his newsroom, almost killed him. The truly frightening thing had been the look in Zod's eyes when he looked at Perry. Perry was less to him than an insect. Zod would kill him in an instant and never think twice about it. Superman's powers without Superman's ethics….

"Lois and I were at the Fortress. I didn't learn about the rogue Kryptonians until we came back." Clark said tensely, "I didn't know what I'd done till then."

"Was it really your fault?" Perry asked.

"It didn't matter," Clark said. "The world was at risk from three superpowered criminals, and I was the only one who could stop them." He sighed, "Whether I meant for it to happen or not – "

"Not," Perry interjected.

"—it still happened. It was my choice to give up my powers. That's what caused it," Clark finished. He put his head in his hands.

The incandescent light from the ceiling fixture threw highlights off Clark's black hair. The silence continued, stretched. Clark took a few shuddering breaths. Perry thought of the bitter irony of Clark giving up his powers, only to create a situation where he had to assume them once again, denying himself a chance of happiness.

"What next?" Perry asked gently.

Clark kept his head in his hands, and Perry had to strain to hear his muffled words. "I…got back my powers. I managed to take care of the bad guys." Another sharp breath. "And Lois and I…we couldn't be together."

Perry nodded, understanding the naked pain in Clark's voice. There was more than one story here – for example, _I took care of the bad guys _cried out for a lot more detail – but now wasn't the time.

"What then?" Perry asked again. He confined his questions to those simple words, needing no more to elicit the flow of events from Clark.

Clark took his head from his hands, although he kept his elbows on the table. He looked up at Perry.

"We lasted a week together at the _Planet._ It was so hard, seeing her every day, knowing it was impossible…Clark's voice faded out. "She felt so too. One day she just burst out crying," he said softly. "It wasn't enough to just be friends anymore." He sat up straight. "We'd been lovers, and not to be able to have that….was bitter."

Perry only nodded.

Clark went on. "I wanted her not to hurt, with all my heart." He touched the innocent-looking glasses sitting on the kitchen table, tiny pinpoints of light reflecting off the curved lenses. "I don't know if I asked for this or not…." He twirled the glasses. "I didn't really plan it, you know," he said plaintively.

Perry gave him a questioning look.

"I kissed her," Clark blurted out, "wishing that she wouldn't hurt." He took the glasses in his hand, squeezed. Perry saw his knuckles whitening, wondered how much force was being applied to the spectacles. "It worked again," Clark said bitterly. "Once again, Lois' memory was taken away."

Perry couldn't help shaking his head. "No," he said.

"Oh, yes. Again," Clark agreed. "Did you pick up on it, Perry?"

Perry thought back. "I remember a little bit of that time," he said slowly. "Lois wasn't herself for a week or so. Then she seemed OK," Perry said. Events slotted themselves into place. "She seemed OK until you left," he said accusingly.

Clark grimaced. "I couldn't stay, Perry. I couldn't go through that again. I'd lost her once. I just couldn't face losing her again. Not this time, not when now I knew what I was missing."

Perry nodded.

"I had to go. I would have slipped back into drugs," Clark insisted.

Perry took a minute to wonder about _drugs. _What the heck could Clark be addicted to? He was Superman, darn it. He was invulnerable, impervious to earthly drugs and alcohol. This called for more research. Later on.

"The news that the astronomers had found Krypton came out just then, and I grabbed onto it," Clark said. "I knew I had to get away. And I couldn't be human right then. It hurt too much."

Perry nodded again.

"So I left. And I spent five years in my ship, being a Kryptonian. Learning about my birth planet." Clark smiled sardonically. "Finally taking my training."

Perry couldn't help himself. He had to know. "And Krypton?"

Clark's smile disappeared. "That place was a graveyard," he said somberly. "The planet had been destroyed. I saw the remnants of a great city on the biggest fragment. It was sterile, lifeless." He sighed. "Everyone was dead." Even more softly, he murmured, "I'm the last one."

What to say to that? What _could _you say to the last member of his species? "Sorry for your loss" just seemed a little….inadequate.

"Did you know that before?" Perry blurted. He wondered. Presumably, from what Clark had said, the artificial intelligence at the Fortress must have known.

"I had been told that before, yes," Clark agreed. "But it's different actually _seeing _it." He had the thousand-yard stare again, thought Perry. "Seeing it with my own eyes made it real."

God, this was a depressing conversation, Perry thought. He got up, clattering his chair to break the heavy silence. "More coffee?"

Clark stayed seated. "Sure," he murmured.

Perry refilled their mugs. He'd be up most of the night for sure. But this time, Perry considered, it wouldn't be from the caffeine. It would be from thinking about everything Clark had told him.

He deliberately took a large sip. The coffee had been sitting on the heat for a long time now, and the taste was just a little….concentrated. Oh well, Perry had often had worse. He could drink almost any sludge disguised as coffee.

"So, what next?" Perry asked.

Clark visibly turned his mind from the dead planet. A slow, careful smile teased its way onto his lips. "Well, for one thing, I did finally master the Kryptonian language and technology," he said. He pointed to the glasses. "No more unintentional amnesia. I know how these things work now and I'm not like a kid with a loaded gun anymore."

"Oh-kay," Perry said slowly. "That's good news."

Clark chuckled. "That's why we're having this conversation now, Perry. I turned off the Obliviousness Field for you." He quickly added, "It's still on for everyone else."

Perry shrugged. "You've got to protect your identity. I can see that." A thought struck him. "Did you turn them off for Lois?"

Clark breathed inward carefully. "Lois." He seemed lost in thought. "We have a chance, now," he said, curiously hopeful. "I've learned enough about myself, my abilities, my protective aura...well, let's just say that now we can be together. I never thought it possible….but we could be." He caught Perry's glance, snapped back to the question that was asked. "Um, Lois. Uh, yes. I turned it off for her at the same time I did for you." He sat pensively. "You noticed first."

Perry raised his eyebrows. Beginning to say something, he was cut off by Clark murmuring fiercely, "God, if she'd only _look _at me!"

* * *

_Author's note: "Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex" is the classic essay by Larry Niven. Don't miss it. It can be found at http colon slash slash www dot raw bw dot com/svw/superman.html. Or just Google it.  
_


	27. Step Twelve, Part Eight

Perry raised his eyebrows. Beginning to say something, he was cut off by Clark murmuring fiercely, "God, if she'd only _look _at me!"

Silence. This glimpse into Clark's psyche affected Perry profoundly. Their previous interactions at AA meetings, though they had seemed to be a deep exchange of confidences, now were revealed as shallow compared to the torrent of words and feelings that poured out of Clark.

Perry could understand the frustration. To be dependent on another's regard, to expect them to see you in a different way, to re-adjust their view of you – it was liberating and frightening, all at once. It was changing, and change was always hard. The one thing Perry knew about change – he could only change himself. He couldn't change anyone else.

He deliberately cleared his throat. The naked longing on Clark's face could not be borne.

"Ahem."

Clark turned to look at him.

Perry continued, blurting out the first thing he could think of. "Why do you go to AA then?" He made a frustrated gesture. "I thought alcohol didn't affect Superman."

"It doesn't," Clark admitted, with a tiny smile. "Street drugs don't either. Can you see me shooting up?"

Perry chuckled. "No."

"No, Perry, my drug is red kryptonite."

Perry raised his eyebrows, and turned back to his neglected notebook. He scrawled _Red K _and gave Clark a questioning glance.

Clark responded. "You probably know of green meteor rock – "

"I thought that was the only kind there was," Perry interrupted.

"No." Clark said flatly. "There are several other isotopes – they appear as different colors of rock." He watched as Perry scribbled that information into his notebook as well. "Fortunately, they're pretty rare." Again, he seemed lost in thought.

"Red kryptonite?" Perry prompted.

"Oh, yes," Clark returned to the present. "It's me on drugs. I only care about myself. I'll do anything, just as long as it's what I want to do. I don't care if people get in my way, or if I commit a crime, or if I tell my secret. The Red K just feels so good."

Perry was alarmed at the last phrase.

"Good?" he asked cautiously. He'd heard other alcoholics talk about their favorite booze in the same tone of voice.

Clark shook his head, returned to himself. "Yeah, it's good," he said. "But I learned long ago that my problems don't go away when I'm on it. I just don't care about them. And then I get in more trouble."

"Nothing gets better when you add a drinking problem," Perry mumbled, having learned the truth of that from his own experiences. The reporter came to the fore, and he found himself asking questions.

"Is it like the green kryptonite, where you have to be within a certain distance? Does it weaken you?"

"It doesn't weaken me, no, Perry. I still retain my powers," Clark said. "I just don't care who I hurt when I use them."

Perry paled at the implications.

"And the Red K does have to be pretty close to me – on my person, or in my clothing. Most of the pieces I've found have been tiny, though. If I ran across a big enough piece, it might act like the green kryptonite, where how close I can get and how seriously I'm affected depends on the size of the piece."

Perry barely heard the last. He was still thinking about Clark's previous statement. Memory stirred.

"It must have been you!" he said. "You were the notorious bank bandit of Metropolis! Who else could have taken all the bullets from the Special Crimes Unit? You're an urban legend!"

Clark squirmed abashedly. "I was hoping you wouldn't think of that," he said.

Perry said incredulously. "I can't believe I never put it together before...oh." He gazed at the glasses again. "Well, it was the biggest story of the year. Masked bank robber in Metropolis, police couldn't stop him, the culprit never apprehended – Clark, that was a huge story! Of course I remember it!" He snorted. "I just didn't connect it with Superman until now."

"I stole a Lamborghini," Clark added. "I hurt a bunch of people. Thank God I didn't kill anyone. I could have."

"That was the time you told me about!" said Perry. Much became clear. "When I met you at AA, you said you'd spent a summer on a drug-fueled bender!"

"Well, I did," Clark said, looking away. "I had a Red K ring."

"How'd you stop?" Perry couldn't help asking. Who would be able to take a ring away from Superman?

"My father staged an intervention," Clark said shortly. "It's a long story." His countenance was forbidding. Obviously he didn't want to talk about that right now. Perry could respect the wish for privacy. Admitting his failings had been the toughest thing he'd done, and it had taken him several attempts.

"Anyway," Clark said loudly, breaking into Perry's thoughts, "when I lost Lois the second time – when I kissed her and it took away her memories again – I could feel the red kryptonite calling me. Calling me to go, not have the pain, just do what I wanted. I couldn't hold out without Lois. You and AA got me through it the first time, Perry, but I couldn't go through that again. And becoming Superman kept me busy enough that I could fight off the craving. But the second time….I couldn't face seeing Lois every day and having her not know me." He grimaced. "And AA wouldn't really work, not when I wasn't being really honest."

Perry nodded.

"So that's why I left," Clark said simply. "I ran away to Krypton. And learning more about my heritage, my powers, the Kryptonian technology, learning to be Kryptonian, being Kryptonian and not human for awhile, helped me make it through." He straightened his shoulders. "I've learned more than I ever thought I would. I know who I am now. I know what I can be now."

Perry looked at him and saw a man in his maturity, a man of character, who exuded a sense of solidity and trustworthiness. Clark had the "Superman" look right now, even more so than the look that Superman usually projected.

"And Richard?" Perry asked delicately. He couldn't help but wonder about his nephew. Heck, Richard and Lois were engaged!

"I don't know," Clark said, suddenly sounding uncertain. "I want Lois to see me, the real me. _All_ of me. And we have to talk. And, if after that, Lois wants to be with him – if she's happy with him – I'll wish him the best." He swallowed. "I just want Lois to be happy."

"I respect you for that, Clark," Perry said musingly. "Would she leave Richard?" He found himself thinking clinically about it. _He's your nephew, Perry! _he told himself. _Your loyalties should be with him. _But he couldn't help but feel for the Man of Steel. "I mean, they have been living together for six years now. And I think Richard's got Lois addicted to family. She didn't have much of one growing up, and now she's found that she likes it."

Clark looked depressed.

"But, Clark, I think there's something missing. Why hasn't she set a wedding date with Richard?" Perry asked. "Now that you're back, even though she hasn't really _seen _you, if you know what I mean – "

Clark nodded.

"- there's still that spark between you. I've looked for it over the years, and she and Richard together don't have that spark. They've got trust, and respect, and some love, but they just don't have that little bit extra."

Clark looked hopeful now.

"I think you need to talk it all out with Lois," Perry concluded. This was one messy triangle he was _definitely _going to stay out of. No matter what happened, someone was going to get hurt here. "Just two requests."

"Yes?" the taller man asked, returning the small smile that played on Perry's lips.

"Try to keep Lois from blowing your cover," Perry said dryly. "And, when she finds out, try to keep her from destroying the newsroom."

Clark laughed. "You're talking like that's a distinct possibility."

Perry leaned back and smiled. "This is _Lois Lane _we're talking about."

Clark chuckled again. Then the smile left his face as he asked, "Richard?"

Somehow Perry knew what he meant. "If you end up having to tell Richard – which you might, Clark – he's a decent guy. He won't rat you out." Fifty years of judging character informed this assessment of his nephew.

'If you say so, Perry," said Clark, a little dubiously.

"I really don't think he would," Perry said. "Ask Lois, though, before you do anything."

"OK." Clark shrugged his shoulders.

"I am definitely staying out of this one, Kent," Perry said. "It's up to you." The yellow light from the kitchen fixture gleamed down on the polished wood of the table. Perry added, "But of course, on the Lex Luthor story, you two will have to work together. Closely."

"I'm counting on it," Clark murmured.

"Lex Luthor!" Perry suddenly realized. "Wait a minute! He used to live in Smallville!"

"He must have known that Superman was me?" Clark prompted. "Yes, of course, he did. He's always been smart. And he'd been around me enough in Smallville to see that things didn't always add up around me. He knew I was different. He just didn't know _how_ different."

The reporter got a sardonic expression. "You may recall, Perry, that Superman made his debut. And the very next day, Lex Luthor granted an interview to the _Daily Planet _on the condition that Clark Kent and Lois Lane be the interviewers."

"I remember that," Perry said. He could see where this was going.

"I think he had plans of, oh, let's not call it blackmail…let's just call it _influencing _Superman's actions, by pointing out what Clark Kent's life would be like if Clark lost his anonymity. Along with the lives of all of Clark's family, friends, and neighbors."

"And?" Perry couldn't help asking.

"So, his was the one situation where I didn't mind that the glasses took away his memories." A sad look crossed Clark's face. "We were friends once," he said softly. "But we grew apart. He chose another path." He sighed. "I've always hated what the glasses do, Perry," he said. "Violating people's minds, stealing their pasts – it's just wrong." He shrugged. "But with Lex Luthor, I had to. That's just how he is. If he has a hold on you, he'll use it. You can't trust him." Clark took a long sip of coffee. "So, in the classic rationalization of "ends justify the means", I let the glasses do their work. And, since you told me that the memories aren't lost, but just misplaced, I hope with all my soul that Lex never finds those memories."

"I didn't start remembering until you started reminding me about things," Perry said slowly. "Maybe, if you never remind him, you'll be OK."

"I hope so," Clark said heavily. "If he found out, it would be a disaster."

"What about written records?" Perry asked. He knew that Lex would have a room full of blackmail material _somewhere_. It was just what Luthors did.

"You know, I wondered about that too, but nothing like that has ever come to light," Clark said. "And Lex has never made any sign that he's found out something."

A memory niggled at Perry. "You know when you tried on the glasses in front of me for the first time?"

"I remember it vividly, yes," said Clark with a hint of sarcasm.

"Right before you did that, I had given you a folder," Perry said slowly, remembering bits and pieces.

"You did," Clark said musingly, quicker to remember that day than Perry.

"You know, Clark, I was no better than Lex. I knew there was something funny about you too," Perry said. "I thought you were some kind of meteor mutant. And I kept on documenting everything. I got quite a thick dossier on you."

Clark raised his eyebrows, indicating Perry should continue.

"And then I realized it didn't matter, and that it wasn't the right thing to do. So I printed out everything and put it in a file folder for you. Then I deleted all my information, so the only copy was in that folder," Perry finished. He felt absurdly rewarded by the warm smile Clark gave him. "That was the folder I gave to you that day." Slightly apprehensively, he asked the Man of Steel. "What did you think when you read that dossier?"

Clark looked confused. "There was nothing in that folder, Perry," he said. "All it was, was blank pieces of paper."

The two men sat still for a moment, considering. _I know I gave him his file, _Perry thought. _What could have happened?_ Clark appeared equally confused for a moment. Then he nodded, and pointed to the innocent-looking glasses on the kitchen table.

"No!" Perry protested. "No way!"

"Yes," Clark replied. "I guess they really are the magic glasses." He couldn't help but laugh quietly. "I did ask Jor-El for something that would protect my identity. And he gave that to me."

"I still find it hard to believe," Perry said weakly. "I mean, making people not notice is one thing. Nobody notices anything anyway."

"You do," Clark said sweetly.

"Yeah, but not everyone is a Pulitzer-winning journalist," Perry riposted. "But erasing things on paper? We're really getting into fairy-tale territory now."

"I guess so," Clark said. "It's Clarke's Law all over again. Technology indistinguishable from magic." He laughed. "You know, right now, thinking in English, I can't imagine how it's done." He became somber. "But if I put on the full Kryptonian persona, get into the mindset, it all becomes clear." He caught Perry's eye and nodded. "I have to start thinking like a Kryptonian to understand it fully. But if I do, I can."

His eyes took on a sudden remoteness, his face a rough sternness. Perry shivered as once again, he saw the aloof and majestic Last Son of Krypton. Then Clark relaxed, and he was once again the genial reporter and close friend that Perry knew.

"I still have to work on switching between the human and the alien," Clark said. "In the ship, for five years, I was Kryptonian. And here, I'm human. I haven't had a lot of practice going from one to the other. Quickly, I mean."

_That_ was interesting, if mind-boggling. Just one more crazy thing about Clark Kent…

Perry left off the human-alien dichotomy and went back to the magically erased documents. His mind grappled with the implications. "I guess that's why Lex Luthor never came back to you," he said, "You know, connecting Clark Kent with Superman."

"Guess so," Clark agreed.

Perry's phone rang, startling them both. He looked at the display. "Alice," he said, and flipped it open.

"Hi, honey."

"Hi, Perry, did you forget we're going out with Bob and Carol tonight?" his better half inquired.

Perry smiled ruefully. "Yep, I did."

Alice sighed. "It's not too late. If you can get home in the next fifteen minutes, we can still make it on time."

"Home in the next fifteen minutes?" Perry said, scrambling. He caught Clark's eye. The tall reporter nodded and smiled. "Um…sure."

"OK, honey, see you soon." Alice ended the call.

Clark took the conversational lead. "Looks like we've got to get you back to Metropolis right now."


	28. Step Twelve, Part Nine

Clark took the conversational lead. "Looks like we've got to get you back to Metropolis right now."

"Um, yeah…if you don't mind," Perry mumbled. He turned away from Clark to rinse his coffee cup in the sink.

"No problem," Clark replied casually. He gestured toward his editor and the two men filed out onto the porch. With wicked amusement in his tone, Clark stepped closer to Perry and said, "Ground or air?"

Clark must have caught Perry's perplexed expression, because he repeated, "Ground or air? Running or flying?"

"Oh," Perry breathed. Clark still surprised him. "Flying, of course," Perry said, half-shakily. How could he turn down an opportunity like this?"

"OK." The tall man pointed at something off in the distance. Perry automatically looked. When he turned back to look at Clark, the reporter had changed from his business attire into the Suit.

Perry flinched. Knowing theoretically about Superman's quick-change abilities was one thing. Actually seeing them, as in so many cases, was another.

"I've got to hold you pretty tight when we're flying," Clark said, advancing.

"OK," Perry said, heart racing. Then a thought struck him. "Just a few more things."

"Wow, you really are a pit bull when you're on a story, Perry," Clark teased. "Remember, you've got to be home in fifteen minutes." Then, more seriously, he added, "What?"

"That time you visited – that Superman visited the _Daily Planet_ – right after you made your debut?" Perry asked.

"Oh." Clark seemed slightly abashed. "I guess I wasn't really sure that the glasses were working. I had to test them out. Would all my co-workers not know me? I mean, the only difference was a pair of glasses! But they really worked." Then, with a grin, "And who else would I give interviews to? Not television – I just give them sound bites. If I want a good interview, an in-depth interview, who else but the _Planet_?"

"Not just because you work there?" Perry asked cynically.

"That's part of it, sure, but it's more because of what the _Planet_ stands for. Truth, fair reporting, ethics, trust," Clark replied. "I take that seriously, whether I'm the interviewer – or the interviewee." He gave Perry a glance. "It's not just _Planet _tradition," he said soberly. "It comes a lot from you."

Perry was flattered.

"Of course, it helps that the _Planet _has always given Superman the benefit of the doubt, even when I didn't deserve it," Clark said.

Perry had to smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Clark," he said. "You always deserved it."

"What's the second thing?" Clark said, changing the subject.

"Jason," Perry asked. "What about him?"

"Jason," Clark breathed, looking away. Silence reigned.

"He's like a grandson to me," Perry said quietly. "He's at the _Planet _just about every day." He swallowed. "He's a good kid."

Clark sighed. "I never thought I could have children, Perry," he said. "I mean, I'm a different species. Look at all the _humans_ who have fertility problems." A pause. "And then, when I was in the hospital, and Lois whispered it in my ear….somehow I knew it was true."

"How did Lois know?" Perry interrupted, curious.

"I don't know, Perry," Clark replied. "You may have noticed. We haven't really talked." His tone was short.

"Um, yeah," Perry mumbled.

"Anyway, to find out I had a son….it was the best thing ever. It was like Christmas every day. And it just keeps on getting better."

Perry couldn't help but restrain his own grimace. He'd had children, hadn't appreciated them. Now he was estranged from his sons, and the bitterness was that he had only himself to blame. He would give a lot to go back and make things right. But that was impossible.

Clark continued. "So, Perry, I just don't know. I never thought something like this could happen. I don't know if he'll have any of my powers. I mean, I didn't get most of them till I was a teenager anyway. But what if he does?"

Perry considered this a moment, nodded solemnly.

"I mean, at least my parents had the spaceship I came to Earth in," Clark continued, eyes lost in the past. "And wasn't _that_ a shock when they told me about it."

Perry raised his eyebrows. "There's a story in there I've _got_ to get, Clark," he said, the Pit Bull arising.

Clark glanced at him. "Well, if you play your cards right…." he teased. Then he took on a more serious tone. "So I knew I was an alien right from the word go…well, at least since I was fourteen," he said. "But Jason….he was born here on Earth. What if he does have my abilities? I had enough trouble adjusting and I knew my background. What will he do?"

Perry shrugged. "You'll have to be part of his life, Clark." It was obvious. He'd realized that right from the start, when he'd first put the pieces together.

Clark cast him an agonized look, and Perry realized at that moment that the so-called Man of Steel actually worried and fretted in a super fashion too. "But what if I can't be in his life? What if Lois won't let me be? What if she keeps me out? What if I can't see Jason? I mean, this isn't something we could take to court for a custody hearing, you know."

"Whoa! Clark. Clark. Calm down," Perry soothed. He actually dared to touch the blue spandex-clad arm and was amazed to feel it trembling. "I know Lois. You know Lois."

"I knew the old Lois," Clark said quietly. "I don't know if this Lois can ever forgive me for everything I've done."

Perry swallowed. "Maybe she won't," he admitted. "But if she knows you – the real you - like you said, she'll forgive you."

"You're optimistic," Clark said gloomily.

"For Christ's sake, Clark, get your head out of your ass!" Perry expostulated.

Clark looked at him in surprise. Apparently Perry wasn't allowed to yell at him when he was in the Suit.

"Here's the plan," Perry said, enunciating slowly. "You tell her. She hears you out. You talk with her, let her get her memories back. You talk to her about Jason. You talk to her."

"Maybe she won't want to talk to me," Clark said. Was he whining? Was the Man of Steel actually _whining?_

"You're whining, Clark," Perry pointed out. "Talk to her," he said pointedly. "Talk to her. That's how I got Alice back. She forgave me. Lois will forgive you too."

"Uh-huh," Clark muttered.

"And if – I say _if _– you have talked to her and talked to her, and she still won't listen, then send her to me," Perry said. "I'll kick her ass. I'm an equal opportunity ass-kicker. Heck, I just kicked yours, didn't I?"

A reluctant smile crept across Clark's face. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. A pause. "I'm sorry, Perry. I think I'm borrowing trouble. I'm so worried about her not _seeing_ me, and then I worry if she does _see _me, and what I'll say, and what might happen with Jason, and – "

"Stop again," Perry said. "Whoa. Just stop right there. Lois is the one in your partnership who babbles. Not you." He smiled and put an optimistic tone into his voice. "_Talk to her_."

"OK," Clark said. He looked away, embarrassed. He'd seriously broken the guy code here, Perry figured, discussing relationships with another guy. It just wasn't done. Even Perry having the unique knowledge of Superman's identity would not have allowed Clark to bare his soul this much, if it hadn't been for their deep conversations in AA meetings and over coffee.

Perry realized now that Clark, when he talked in AA, had never actually lied. He'd just left stuff out. He'd talked honestly about his addiction and how hard it was a times to follow the steps, a procedure that became easier as both he and Perry did it each day. And obviously, Perry was the only one that Clark trusted enough to discuss things like this. It just showed that going through the life-changing Twelve Steps together, promoting honesty in one's daily life, brought friendship among the most unlikely.

There was a momentary silence. Then, tacitly changing the subject, Perry said, "The next thing? You know, to ask you?

"Yes?" Clark asked, also apparently relieved that the deep confidences were put behind them now.

"That conversation we had right after Superman made his debut?" Perry asked. "Where I was saying that everyone had an angle? And you were saying, maybe Superman was doing stuff to get good karma?"

They both laughed, the tension relieved.

"Actually, Perry, you're going to laugh even more at this," Clark said. "You're right. I've got an angle. I'm not doing all those rescues out of altruism."

"What?" Perry asked.

"It's my Twelfth Step work," Clark explained simply. "I do things for others because it helps me. It keeps me sober. I get more out of it than I put into it."

"Twelfth Step work," Perry mused. Suddenly he was laughing loudly. "Twelfth Step work." He took a few more whoops of laughter. "God, I'd love to have you get up at a meeting and tell your story. I can just see it – _Hello, my name is Clark and I'm an addict. I found out that it's necessary for me to perform superhuman rescues, lift shuttles into space and defeat intergalactic criminal dictators to keep my sobriety._"

Clark began laughing too. "You know, I've often wondered about that. If I could tell my story? What _would _I say? You wonder why I only attend the open meetings? I couldn't lie well enough to face everyone in a more intimate session."

"Yeah, well, us alcoholics have told every lie in the book, and we know all the excuses. You wouldn't fool us for long," Perry said.

Clark caught Perry's eye and said, more seriously, "_You _do a good talk, though."

"I think when I reached bottom, it was a little lower than you," Perry said softly. "You pulled me out. One of your first saves, I suspect."

"I'm glad," Clark said simply.

They stood together in silence for a moment.

"Oh, yes." Perry pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket. He ripped out the last few pages and gave them to the blue-clad figure. "Here."

"Oh." Superman – he was definitely Superman here, not Clark Kent – crumpled the pages into a ball. He threw the ball into the air, and it exploded into ash with a tiny _whumph_. "Thanks."

"Almost forgot," Perry said. He took a deep breath. "It'll be weird knowing that Superman works three desks down and has to cover Metropolis City Council meetings."

Clark looked at him seriously now. "Perry," he began.

"What?"

Clark seemed diffident. "I have to ask you. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Know what?"

Clark looked away. "My secret," he said. "It's a hard thing to know. It's a hard thing to keep. I'm glad you know, but it is a burden. Ask my mother. She's been carrying it for over thirty years. Sometimes I feel guilty about what it's done to her." He inhaled. "You can…I can….if you want to go back to not knowing, you can." Clark took off his glasses and pointed to them. He smiled weakly. "It would probably be safer."

Perry stared at him. "No," he said slowly. "You could do that, right?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," Clark said.

"No," Perry replied. "I want to know the truth. Maybe it hurts, sometimes, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the truth is the only way."

Clark nodded.

"I'm grateful you trusted me, Clark," Perry said. "No. I don't want to forget." He smiled. "Besides, I still know how to protect a source."

Clark nodded again, seriously.

"OK, then," Perry said briskly. "When we get back to Metropolis, you're Clark Kent again."

"I always was," Clark interjected.

"You're the reporter on the City beat. You're only as good as your next story, hear me?" Perry demanded. "And even if you've got this other job, you still need get the story for the _Daily Planet. _By deadline."

A slow smile washed over the tall reporter's face. "I did it before, I can do it again."

Perry said, "You know…"

"What?"

"If you ever want to go out for coffee…"

"We could have a pretty honest talk now," Clark finished. "I might take you up on that sometime."

"Or I might take _you _up on that," Perry said. "If I hear anything Superman should know…." He smiled. "Ah, you probably hear it first. Working at the _Planet, _we get all the news."

"That's one reason I work there," Clark said. Then he stood straighter, blanked his expression, and dropped his voice. Perry saw his assumption of the alien persona.

"Interesting how you become Superman," Perry said. "And I don't mean just putting on the Suit."

"I know," Clark said, smiling and looking human for a moment. "Sometimes it's like he's somebody else."

He moved closer, put on the Kryptonian identity again. "It's been a good talk, Perry. You ready to go?" Superman asked. Smiling, he added, "I don't want to make you late for Alice and your party."

Perry stood a little straighter, his heart racing in anticipation and excitement. "OK." Then he stood back just a little. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"One more question."

"Hey, the meter's running," Clark joked.

"Just bear with an old newsman."

"What?"

"The clothes. I mean, what do you do with the Superman suit when you're Clark Kent? And vice versa? I mean, that cape is pretty conspicuous. And who wears red boots? They're not something you can explain away."

An evil smile crept across Clark's face. "You're going to hate me for this one, Perry."

"What?"

"More Kryptonian technology." Clark drew out the moment in anticipation, flourishing the cape theatrically. "I use the technology to put the clothes….into a _pocket _dimension."

Perry groaned so loudly that he missed the takeoff and the first fifteen miles of their flight.


	29. Step Twelve, Part Ten

_Author's note: Events in this chapter make reference to the movie, "Superman Returns". _

* * *

Perry just happened to be there, a few days later, when Lois Lane really _looked _at Clark Kent.

Actually, the set-up was perfect. Superman had just lifted off from Metropolis Stadium, carrying the damaged airplane whose deposition in the stadium a few days ago had marked the Man of Steel's dramatic return to Earth. Perry was amused to see Clark, in his Kryptonian guise, solemnly shaking the hands of the head of NASA and the Commissioner of Baseball. The source of the amusement was that Clark, at Perry's advice, had held out for a doubling of the bounty offered for Superman to remove the plane.

Actually, it was the _Daily Planet _editorials that had led the way – Perry had only to point out how much the Metropolitans took in during only one game, how much they would lose if the plane stayed there, how much NASA would learn by a quick delivery of the lobotomized plane to its laboratory, and contrasted that with the numerous good works done by the Superman Foundation. Once he'd shamed the government and the baseball lords into upping their previous (_insulting, _Perry thought) offer, Superman had graciously agreed to remove the jet from the playing field and ferry it down to Cape Canaveral.

Clark had laughed when Perry told him about the editorials.

"I'd do it for free, you know that, Perry," he'd said.

"Yeah, I know," Perry had replied. Clark – the _real_ Clark, not the bumbling façade Clark – was a pretty funny guy. And a pretty good friend. "But we owe you. You saved a lot of people that day, Clark."

Clark only nodded, as if to say, _Ho-hum, just another day. _

Perry continued, channeling the discussion from the newsroom. "And face it, Clark, Superman isn't their errand boy." Perry found himself referring to Clark's other identity in the third person again – he tried to do that. He figured if he trained himself, it would make inadvertent slips less likely. "He doesn't have to do this. He's got better things to do." He slipped back into addressing Clark as Superman directly. "If you give in on this, people will take advantage of you left and right – "

He stopped at Clark's grin and apologetic shrug.

"All right, they're already taking advantage of you left and right," Perry said. He had to chuckle. "But I want them to pay for it. Because they can. They can afford it. _And _to make the point that Superman's services are a privilege. Not a right. And not to be used as a convenience."

Perry brought his thoughts back to the present as he saw the NASA guy and the Commissioner present the giant check to Superman, stiff smiles on their faces. The check, oversize in both physical dimensions and amount, made even Perry raise his eyebrows. The Superman Foundation got donations every day, but few were of this magnitude.

As for the stiff smiles on the faces of the presenters, Perry knew very well why they were stiff. On the one hand, it was hard to give away that amount of money. On the other hand, it was just part of the cost of doing business for Major League Baseball, and no doubt they'd already made it up in free publicity. Perry figured the NASA guy didn't care – it was only taxpayer money, after all.

But being that close to Superman – that tended to make one a little stiff, a little unsure, a little wary. Perry had been that way on the few times he'd met the Man of Steel – before he knew, of course. Now he silently reminded himself that if he should run into Superman, he shouldn't display the ease that he now felt in Clark's – _no,_ _**Superman's,**__ remember that, Perry _– presence. Suddenly Perry understood, deep in his gut, Clark's assumption of a human identity, and why Clark protected it so assiduously.

People acted differently around Superman. They couldn't help it. They were stiff, they were diffident or starstruck, they put on their party manners. Perry remembered back a few years, when he (and everyone else) thought Clark was Superman's media contact, and were asking curious questions about the Man of Steel.

In Perry's presence, Jimmy Olsen had happened to ask Clark about Superman. "He's above us like a god, or something. Does he ever talk about that? Are we just ants to him, or something?"

Perry remembered now that Clark had paled, and had answered the question with intensity.

"No, Jimmy, never. I've talked with him a lot about that. He doesn't feel that he's above us. He thinks of himself as a regular guy with special abilities."

Jimmy had raised his eyebrows in apparent disbelief but had dropped the topic. Thinking back on it now, Perry understood. Superman _was_ a regular guy with extra abilities. But Superman didn't have friends. He wasn't someone who would go out for a beer after work with you.

But Clark Kent could, and did. Perry suspected that Clark, keeping his secret, was deeply lonely. And those stolen moments of camaraderie, quickly dismissed by others, would be cherished and remembered by Clark. For a moment, Perry actually pitied Superman. The man had everything – and nothing.

A burst of applause from the newsroom broke Perry out of his reverie. The video at Metropolis Stadium focused on the wingless airplane, apparently levitating itself in defiance of the laws of physics, Superman's figure hidden by the bulk of the airliner. The baseball team had excellent (and numerous) cameras throughout the stadium. Numerous camera angles captured the amazing strength of the blue-clad figure. Perry inhaled sharply at the evidence of Superman's sheer power, demonstrated once again.

A matching inhalation next to him caught Perry's attention. Lois Lane stared at the rising airplane, puzzlement on her face. The newsroom and Lois watched as Superman got the airplane into a safe altitude and cruised away with his burden, towards Cape Canaveral. The live-action video stopped when the airplane got out of sight, and the news channels turned back to the previously recorded clip of Superman accepting the charity donation.

Perry watched Lois. After Clark had told him that he had "turned off the disguise" for Lois, Perry had kept an eye on her. He had a mean little hankering to see someone get as boggled as he had when he _realized. _And it looked like some thoughts were percolating in the back of Lois' head….

Perry caught her shaking her head decisively. She turned to him and said, "Chief?"

"Yes?" Perry replied.

"Do you know where Clark is?" she asked. "We were going to go over some of the Luthor files."

Perry raised an eyebrow at her. "He's _your _partner, Lois."

"I know, Chief," she replied. "But he just left me some lame message on my voice mail this morning. I was wondering if he gave you any more information."

Perry's head automatically swiveled to the television monitors where a tiny blue-clad figure could just barely be seen under the bulk of the plane. He mentally kicked himself. _Way to keep the secret, Perry. _

Lois followed his gaze. "If he's off getting a Superman exclusive and not telling me…" she muttered under her breath. "Well, if you see him, Perry, tell him that I want to talk with him." She stalked away.

"What am I, your secretary?" Perry asked himself. He'd have ripped a new one in any other reporter that said what Lois had. Only Lois Lane could treat him like this and get away with it. She'd earned it. He chuckled and went back to his office.

He kept an eye on Lois that morning. She didn't seem to be getting a lot of work done – instead, she kept on staring into space. Perry found her expressions fascinating. _I think she's figured it out. _

Later that day, Clark entered the newsroom. Perry, sensitized to Kent's arrivals and departures by now, looked up automatically. Clark spun his fedora on the hat rack (_I can't believe he actually wears that hat_, thought Perry, _that's taking things into the realm of parody)_ and waved Lois a cheerful "Hello."

She automatically waved back. Then Perry saw her stand up, go to Clark, and just stare at him. Clark wore the expression of a mouse trapped by a very large cat. Lois studied Clark's face intently, saying nothing. Then she took Clark by the arm and sweetly said, "Conference room."

Perry was impressed. If this was it, and it looked like it was, Lois had kept an impassive poker face out there in the newsroom. As she marched Clark off to the private conference room, Perry saw Clark's face. Perry was struck by the mingling of eager hope and (in Perry's opinion) well-deserved fear on the face of the invulnerable Man of Steel. Even if Lois had known before, according to what Clark had told Perry, Clark certainly did have some explaining to do. Perry caught Clark's eye and grinned through the glass walls of his office, giving Clark a thumbs-up gesture as Lois and Clark filed past. Clark managed a weak smile in return.

Perry mentally laid bets as to how long they'd be in there together. Lois' fiery personality made her unwilling to put up with crap and Perry hoped that she'd restrain her anger with Clark long enough to let him explain.

Based on his own experiences, Perry figured that Lois would have to deal with the whole "Clark Superman" revelation first. Even though, according to Clark, they had a tremendous past together, Lois wouldn't remember it until Clark started talking to her about it, stimulating the return of the lost memories. Perry had spent enough time with Clark in the past few days to get a feeling as to how many memories he had actually lost due to the Kryptonian mind-veiling technology, and it was a lot. And Lois? She must have lost months, years – a whole high school, college and first-years-on-the-job friendship with Clark lost, replaced by falsity.

So Perry guessed that Lois would be mad about Clark's deception first. Mad? Try anger at a nuclear-meltdown level. Or would she be understanding, even with her memories gone? After all, she was a reporter. She knew as well as Perry the danger in exposing Superman's identity to the world. Would she forgive Clark long enough to let him talk?

The conference room door slammed open and Lois stormed out, not caring that the swinging door almost knocked over Clark, following her. He was making little calming gestures with his hands and she was ignoring him. Blatantly and obviously. She wouldn't look at him, turning away when he circled around her. Her entire posture screamed her disdain.

_Yep. She found out, all right. _Perry shrugged his shoulders.

The tense drama attracted the attention of others in the newsroom, and a gradually increasing area of silence grew around Lois and Clark. Clark seemed to realize it first, looking around, and hunching back up.

_Careful, Clark, _thought Perry, _you had the Superman posture there for a while. You didn't look Clark Kent-like at all. _

Clark cast one more imploring glance at Lois. She refused to return his gaze. He sighed. He walked back to his own desk, shoulders slumped. He sat down and aimlessly sharpened a pencil. The newsroom stopped gaping at the Lois-Clark silent quarrel, and the murmur of conversation resumed.

Then, Perry was interested to see, Clark's ears metaphorically pricked up and he got the blank expression in his eyes that Perry had learned meant that Superman was needed somewhere. He unfolded his lanky frame and gave Lois a nod. She ignored that too, obviously and ostentatiously. Clark set out at a steady pace for the exit. As he passed by Perry's office, he caught Perry gawking. He shrugged his shoulders and made a "thumbs-down" gesture.

_Just a little guess that that whole talk didn't go well at all, _thought Perry. He decided he'd give them two days. After that, it was time to start the ass-kicking.

Clark didn't come back till late that afternoon. Lois had gradually gotten back into the swing of work, and typed at her keyboard with an excess of vigor. Clark's careful arrival back in the newsroom, and the delivery of a placatory cup of coffee to Lois' desk, was marked by no diminution of the furious clatter of keys. She sneered at the coffee cup, and, after Clark had returned to his own desk, ostentatiously poured it into the plant pot on her desk. Perry winced. That wouldn't do that aspidistra any good.

Lois' silent rage was interrupted by the cry of "Mommy!" Lois looked up, and for the first time that day, smiled, as she greeted her son. Perry was unashamedly eavesdropping now.

"Honey! What'd you do in school today?" Lois asked Jason.

"We read some books, and we did some math, and we drawed!" Jason gabbled out. He'd obviously inherited Lois' fast-talk gene. "I made a picture for you!" Jason pulled a folded crayon drawing out of his backpack.

Richard caught up, and leaned over to kiss Lois. "Hey, hon," he said. "Have a good day?"

Perry could only imagine what Lois could say to this.

"Oh, nothing too exciting," she said coolly. "Found out some new things." She turned so that she faced Clark, who was watching her and Jason. "Thought I might print them in tomorrow's _Planet."_

Perry saw Clark go pale.

"Or maybe not," Lois added.

_Whoa, Lois. Just twisting the knife there, aren't you? _ thought Perry.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a page-one story any day now," Richard said. It was the absolute truth. Lois averaged a page-one story every week – at least. He leaned over and kissed Lois again.

Perry saw Clark grit his teeth. Subtly, though.

Jason, bored, said, "I wanna go see Mr. Clark!" He headed down the aisle towards Clark's desk.

Clark looked hopeful.

"Oh, no, Jason, Mr. Clark is too busy to see you right now," Lois said, grabbing Jason's arm and bringing him back to her desk.

Perry saw Clark sigh and close his eyes.

"But I have a picture for him, too!" Jason persisted.

"You can give him the picture tomorrow," Lois said. "You can't see Mr. Clark right now. We've got to go home." She punctuated her phrases by gathering up her purse, grabbing Richard's and Jason's hands, and practically leading them out the door.

_Ooh, low blow, Lois, _Perry thought.

Clark just sat at his desk, shoulders hunched, eyes down.

Perry turned back to his work. It was up to Lois and Clark to settle this between them. He only hoped they got it together before the newsroom imploded.


	30. Step Twelve, Part Eleven

_Three days later_

Perry snorted. Lois had just given Clark another snub, and despite Clark's best efforts to keep it low-key, it was obvious to the newsroom that Lane and Kent were on the outs. Perry had heard murmured gossip – he wondered what Clark, with the Superman ears, was hearing. Nothing good, probably – wasn't that a maxim about gossip?

Clark lifted his head again, caught Perry's eye, and made a quick nodding gesture. Perry nodded back, recognizing the signs that Superman was needed. Clark got up from his desk. Lois looked up at the movement, and Clark managed to catch her eye. A hopeful expression flickered across his face. She returned his glance with a stony stare. Clark sighed, looked miserable yet enduring, and walked out.

Perry made his decision. "Lois!" he bellowed.

She looked up.

"In my office, now!" Perry said.

Reluctantly, she plodded into the office. She knew Perry wasn't calling her in to compliment her on a prize-winning story. In fact….

"How much work have you gotten done on the Lex Luthor search?" Perry demanded.

"I've dug up information on his previous haunts, his prior associates –"

"In other words, you're no further ahead," Perry stated flatly.

Lois hung her head. "No."

"What does Kent have to say?" Perry asked. He knew the answer to that one.

"Well…" Lois temporized.

"Well, what?" Perry laid his hands flat on his desk and loomed over Lois sitting in the chair.

"We haven't talked much lately," Lois admitted. She could hardly deny it. The drama had played out in front of Perry for the past few days.

"And why not?" Perry asked sweetly.

Lois recognized the steel under the honeyed tone. "Um…." It seemed that no matter how angry with Clark, she wasn't going to betray him. Perry had expected nothing less. But her tongue-tied-ness was surprising. Usually Lois had a plausible explanation ready for everything, whether it was illegal entry or possession of burglary tools. Apparently aliens in the newsroom were a little out of her range. Maybe she'd been so mad she'd forgotten to prepare a story. Or maybe she knew that it was pretty difficult to fool Perry.

"Um?" Perry repeated mockingly.

"Well, uh…." Lois trailed off again. She avoided eye contact.

Perry sighed and leaned back. "Before you start selling me a line of goods, I'll ask you." He took a deep breath and said, "Are you mad at Clark because he told you about his second job?"

Lois' head shot up, startled. At her questioning look, Perry nodded and said, "You know…" He made a flying gesture with his hands.

Annoyance crossed her face. "Does _everyone _in this freakin' newsroom know?" Lois asked sarcastically. "Except for me, of course." She got up and started pacing nervously.

Perry gave a noiseless chuckle. "No," he said quietly. "I think we're the only two people in the world – besides his mother – who know."

"But you must have figured it out first," Lois said.

"Just the luck of the draw," said Perry. "I happened to be watching a lot of TV the other day and, well, you know, the resemblance just struck me."

For some reason, he felt the need to speak in circumlocutions, not to say anything definite. Now that he knew Clark's other identity, unhappy scenarios had been passing through Perry's head – nightmares about blackmail and torture. Lex Luthor was still out there, too – a frightening thought at any time.

Lois snorted. "But you figured it out right away," she said. "It took me longer." Just like Perry had, she asked rhetorically, "I'm a reporter. Why didn't I notice it? I mean, I work with the guy!"

Perry sighed. Clark must not have told her yet. He knew how violated, how angry he had been when Clark told him about the memory stealing. How much worse would it be for Lois? From what Clark had said, she'd lost much more. How could you forgive something like that?

"Didn't Clark tell you about that?" he temporized.

"He was too busy apologizing," Lois snapped. Then, grudgingly, she added, "And I really didn't give him a lot of time to talk."

Perry nodded. "Lois…" he said.

"What?" she asked. "Are you going to order me to work with him?" Her tone of voice left no doubt that if Perry did, she would quit.

"No," Perry said softly. "I'm going to ask you."

She looked up in surprise.

"Lois, Clark owes you a lot. He's treated you badly. If you talk to him, you'll find that he's done stuff to you that's unforgivable, basically," Perry said. "And yet, I have to ask you to hear him out. At least listen to him. Give the guy a chance to talk to you. You can't stay mad forever."

Lois snorted again. "Guess again. It's my special talent. Clark can – " she made the flying gesture with her hands this time – "you know, and I can stay mad. It's a gift."

Perry couldn't help but laugh. One of Lois Lane's greatest assets was her perseverance.

"I know you can stay mad," he said. "But, please. I'm asking you. Please talk to him." He shrugged his shoulders. "Then, after you talk to him, you'll be madder."

"Why should I, then?" Lois challenged him.

"Because you have to," Perry said softly.

"I don't _have _to do anything," she retorted.

"_You _don't," Perry agreed. "But what about Jason?"

Lois sat down. "Jason?" she asked weakly.

"Come on, Lois. He's Clark's son. It's obvious," Perry said. "The apple didn't fall far from the tree there."

"Does everybody know that, too?" Lois asked. Her anger diminished, now she seemed more worried.

"I don't think so," Perry said. "But you know me. You were the one who pointed out that I notice things. And I know you. You notice even more things." He nodded at her. "And if we can see it now, sooner or later someone else, or everyone else, is going to see it."

"I know," Lois said unhappily.

"And, if Clark is his father, then you _know _you have to talk to him." Perry made a flat statement. Unspoken was the Superman heritage.

"What about Richard?" Lois asked, grasping at straws. "This is going to hurt him."

Perry sighed. "I know," he said. "That's one of the things I've been thinking about for the past few days." He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "_Damn _Clark anyway!"

Lois looked up in surprise.

"Getting you pregnant. Going away for five years. The situation now," Perry said. "I'm not even in the triangle and I'm mad at him too."

"At least we can agree on that," Lois said.

Perry sat down, deflated. "I know. It's a huge mess, Lois, and I have to ask you to wade into the swamp. For your son." He took a deep breath and strove to achieve a lighter tone. "And find Lex Luthor."

Lois paled.

"You know, Clark has some hidden talents that might come in handy in an investigation," Perry mused. No need to spell those out to Lois.

"Uh-huh," Lois agreed.

"So, Lois, I'm asking you. Hear the guy out. Let him talk. You'll be mad. You'll be more than mad. But, for me, please just stay there and let Clark tell you everything." Perry took a breath. "Do it as a favor to me."

Lois sat quietly for a moment. Then she said, her light tone disguising her deep feelings, "Well, since you asked…."

"Thanks," Perry said. Silence reigned for a long minute. He pasted a patented Pit Bull expression on his face. "All right! What're you waiting around for? Go out there and get the story!"

* * *

Clark came back about a hour later. He bumbled his way through the newsroom as usual, managing to knock over Stacia's coffee cup and shatter it on the floor. He apologized profusely, and got coffee on the knee of his suit as he knelt to mop up the puddle.

Lois watched him with a deliberate stone face. Clark headed to his desk. Before Clark could make another overture toward Lois, Perry called him into the editorial office.

Perry thought about how to open this conversation. He saw Lois look up curiously, then look away as Clark turned toward her.

"Clark," Perry said. Clark brought his head back to look at him.

Perry asked him flat out, "Were you listening?"

Clark looked away and nodded abashedly. "I can't help it. I always hear Lois."

"Can't you tune us out, or something?" Perry asked.

"I don't have any trouble tuning _you _out, Perry," Clark said, with a wry smile. "It's harder for me to ignore Lois."

Whatever. Interesting, although sort of creepy in a stalker-ish way. "Well, you probably heard that she's going to give you a chance to explain."

"Yes," Clark breathed.

"Get this solved, Clark," Perry said in his best Editor-In-Chief tone. "You're making her miserable. You're miserable. Richard is picking up the vibe. Jason is too. It's disturbing the newsroom. Do something about it."

Worriedly, Clark murmured, "I'll try my best."

"Not only that, you two need to work on the Lex Luthor disappearance," Perry continued. "Not just for the story. You two need to make sure he's put away."

"I know," Clark said. He straightened up. Perry once again caught a glimpse of Superman.

Clark headed to the door of the office. "You promise Lois won't bite me?" he said with a tiny smile.

"She didn't promise _that,_" Perry said. "But she did say she'd listen to you."

"OK." Clark left the office. Perry watched in curiosity as he met Lois at her desk. A brief conversation, stilted, but at least no deep-freeze. Clark headed back to his desk, looking a little happier.


	31. Step Twelve, Part Twelve

_Author's note: refers to events in the "Smallville" TV series fourth-season episode, "Pariah". _

* * *

**_Two weeks later_**

"Perry," Lois said as she hung awkwardly half-in, half-out of the door of his office, "can we go out for coffee this evening?"

Perry looked up in surprise. "Been awhile since we've done that, Lois," he said. He gestured to Lois, and she moved into the office.

"Yeah, but….I need to talk," she said.

Perry gave her a sharp look. "About a certain reporter whose desk is near yours?"

Lois shrugged. "Uh-huh." She seemed strangely diffident. "And there are certain….well, usually I'd talk with the girlfriends –"

Perry interrupted. "Lois, you don't have any girlfriends. Mad Dog Lane doesn't."

"—but certain unique characteristics of Clark's and my situation make you the only person who I could possibly talk to about this," Lois went on, ignoring Perry's interruption.

A gofer came up, waving a message form at Perry. Irritated, he gave the gofer the patented Glare of Death. Unfortunately, it didn't work – the young man stubbornly remained un-ashed.

"OK, then, the Delmar at six."

"Thanks, Chief," Lois replied.

"And stop calling me Chief!" Perry shot at Lois as she retreated.

* * *

The clink of silverware and the drone of conversation reached Perry's ears as he slipped into the booth seat. Carlos, the busboy, brought Perry a glass of ice water within thirty seconds. Lois already had her glass.

"Thanks, Carlos," Perry said, taking a sip. He needed it – yelling at people all day long dried out his throat.

"Thanks for coming, Perry," Lois said quietly, at the same time.

"Ah, I'd come for you, you know that, Lois," Perry said jokingly. "And it's Alice's women's club night. And she's the hostess. If you hadn't set this up I was going to have to go home and make conversation with about twenty-five very frightening women."

"I know it's her women's group night," Lois said. "That's why I asked you tonight. I _am _an investigative reporter, after all." She fixed Perry with a stern gaze. "And those ladies are raising money for scholarships for women's higher education."

"That's the real reason I want to avoid even being around that meeting," Perry confessed. "Every time I meet some of those ladies at a club event, I end up making a hundred-dollar donation to their projects."

Lois started laughing.

"I mean it!" Perry started laughing too. "When they have those events where the husbands attend as well….let's just say that my wallet's a lot thinner afterward."

"Sorry, Perry, but I'm with the ladies on this one. I can't forget that I actually got a scholarship from their group that helped me get through Met U."

"I'm glad to see those donations weren't wasted then, Lois," Perry said, losing his joking attitude. "My loss is the _Planet's _gain."

Teresa, the waitress, came, and took their order for coffee and dessert. As she walked away, the two made desultory conversation until Perry's apple pie and Lois' chocolate cheesecake were delivered.

Perry leaned forward onto the tired Formica table, and lowered his voice. Lois unconsciously copied his motion.

"Lois, what do you really want to say?" Perry asked.

"It's difficult…." She said, avoiding his gaze. Then she snorted. "You wouldn't think I make my living with words."

Perry said, "I wanted to ask you how it's going with Clark. I'm assuming that's what this is all about?" He glanced up at the camera on the ceiling that surveilled the cash register area. "Nothing too specific, right?"

Lois nodded. "You know, Clark told me that he automatically sweeps every room, every place he enters, for surveillance devices. It's just a habit with him now."

"I can see why. He told me that too," Perry said. "Did he put the little, um – " he whispered, "Kryptonian, um, crystal in your phone that he said would make it un-eavesdroppable?" Perry replied.

"Yes," Lois said. "It annoyed me, but then I realized what a great idea it was. You know the government can use your cell phone as a microphone if it wants to."

"Yeah, unless you turn it off and take the battery out," Perry said. "I knew that. And cell phones are so insecure anyway. You know that."

"Yes." The two glanced away from each other, and took another bite of dessert. Silence reigned.

"How's the Lex Luthor story going, then?" Perry asked. Better to start with something neutral.

"I think we're really getting some good leads," Lois smiled. "Not that the police haven't investigated, but what helps is that Clark and I knew Lex back in our younger days in Smallville. We know how he thinks." A frown crossed her face. "That's actually kind of scary, to know that we think like Lex Luthor."

"Honey," Perry said gently, "has Clark been, um, _talking_ with you? And you started _remembering_ stuff?"

She looked away again. "He told you, huh?" Lois seemed near tears.

Perry snorted. "He didn't tell me till after he'd done it to me," he said, still with a hint of bitterness. The violation of his mind was the hardest to forgive, even though Perry had told Clark that he had forgiven the younger man. "He started talking to me, and I started remembering some pretty, um, unusual stuff," Perry finished, indicating with a glance the diners in the booths and tables nearby theirs, implying that they had to talk in circumlocutions. "I was pretty mad at him."

Lois nodded.

"And I suppose it's worse for you," Perry added. He'd wondered about this for quite some time, after Clark had confessed how close he had been to Lois in Smallville, and how many memories Lois had had taken away.

Lois began crying quietly. It almost frightened Perry – Lois Lane never cried. Awkwardly, she pulled some Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. "I remember a lot more, now, Perry," she said. She looked very tired. "When we were in Smallville – when we were young – I had some pretty strong feelings for Clark," she confessed.

"Um," Perry said, noncommittally.

Lois went on, the floodgates opening. Bitterly, she said, "And all he could think about at first was Lana Lang."

Perry raised his eyebrows. "Not the Lana who later became – "

"—Lana Luthor. Yep. Lex Luthor's wife." Lois took a sip of her coffee. "And I had a front-row seat to their on-again, off-again romance. And, every time it fell through, or they had an argument, in their soap-opera lives, who would Clark come to? Friend Chloe, that's who."

"Lois," Perry said, this time very quietly, "Chloe Sullivan is gone. Remember?"

"Uh-huh," Lois said, taking in his warning and then ignoring it. "God, I was such a sap!" Fiery Lois was back. "Supporting him all that time! That BDA!"

"BDA?" Perry enquired.

"Big Dumb" – she leaned closer in to whisper – "Alien."

Perry couldn't help but smile. She was so right.

"Back in Smallville, Clark was always involved in some meteor freak-of-the-week attack, and he'd come in and save the day," Lois said pensively. "I'm beginning to remember that now. And then – it was before I knew, Perry – he'd always have some lame excuse for the crazy stuff that happened. I can't believe I missed it then. I mean, his excuses were so bad."

"Actually, when did you find out Clark's secret?" Perry asked, interested. He knew from his own experiences that she must have known it when she began working at the _Planet. _

"Senior year of high school," Lois said. "I'm ashamed to admit this, Perry, but I didn't figure it out on my own."

Perry raised his eyebrows.

Lois said, "Well, in my defense, who'd have thought, you know, _alien_?"

"That is a_ little_ unusual," Perry allowed solemnly. "So how did you figure it out?"

"Actually, Clark was outed by someone," Lois said slowly. "It's coming back to me now." She sipped coffee. "Another girl – she was a meteor freak – had found out his secret and she was mentally unstable. She set up a situation where he'd have to use his abilities in front of me."

"Situation?" Perry said.

"Yeah. She arranged an accident where Clark had to catch a runaway car in midair," Lois said quietly, glancing at the diners in the nearby booths to make sure they were engrossed in their own conversations. "Let me tell you, it was a shock to see."

"I can only imagine."

"And this girl thought that, since I was a reporter, I'd plaster Clark's secret all over the front page." Lois stirred her coffee nervously. "Obviously, I didn't."

"I've always thought you loyal to your friends, Lois."

"And he danced around the truth for another six months, until finally I pinned him down and made him admit it to me," Lois said.

A memory teased Perry. "Did this have something to do with a forty-story igloo?" he asked

Lois' eyes widened. "He told you about the Fortress?" she asked, her words now barely audible.

"Uh-huh," Perry said, not wanting to go into all else that Clark had told him about that event.

Lois let it pass too, going on to another topic.

"Clark was still in love with Lana then. And all the time, Lana was going on and on to both me and Clark about his secrets and lies," Lois continued, now working into a rant. "And I had found out, um, about Clark, and I kept on telling him to tell Lana, and be honest with her, and he wasn't, and then now I find out he hasn't been honest with me and I thought we were friends and I thought he cared about me! And all the time, he's been, well, you know who, and lying to me, and laughing at me behind his face!" She'd worked herself into tears again, Perry noted.

She blew her nose defiantly and loudly. Leaning over the table towards Perry again, she said fiercely, "Clark Kent is a big fat liar!"

"Uh-huh," Perry agreed. It was actually kind of nice to be with someone who could rant as well as Lois and express the feelings that Perry still had.

"All the times I thought he was going out to see a source…." Lois went on.

"Uh-huh," Perry said. Lois was on a roll.

"And, I thought we were good friends," Lois said angrily, but with a note of wistfulness. "I told him I'd never betray – " she leaned toward Perry again and whispered "- his secret." Leaning back, she said more loudly, "And what does he do?" Lois asked rhetorically. "He makes it so I don't have the choice. He didn't trust me. He didn't believe me."

"Uh-huh," Perry said again.

"I mean, Perry, you know me!" Lois gesticulated, almost knocking over her coffee cup. "Am I the kind of person who won't keep her sources confidential? Am I a blabbermouth?"

"No," Perry said.

"And, that weasel! That snake! He didn't trust me! How can I trust him now?" Lois' face paled. "What if he does it again?"

"He said he wouldn't," Perry offered, playing devil's advocate.

"You know, Perry," Lois said seriously, "ever since I knew that Clark was –" she mouthed the word "Superman", not saying it out loud, "after I found out what those glasses could do – what he could do with them – you know, that's the first time I've really been afraid of him."

"Yeah, me too," Perry surprised himself by agreeing.

"Because, you know, beating someone or killing someone or whatever – that's just physical. But what he did to me - that was changing my identity. My soul," Lois went on.

"I felt the same way when I realized," Perry confessed. "That's why I was so angry."

They shared an empathetic glance, then as one, ate a bite of dessert. Then another bite.

Perry felt the stirrings of conscience. Much as he wanted to dump on Clark right now, it wasn't getting them any further ahead. He needed harmony in his newsroom, and he needed Lois Lane acting like the Pulitzer-winning reporter she was and could be.

"Well, in his defense," Perry said, "He did say that he hadn't intended for it to happen. And he didn't know how to reverse it till now."

"He told me that first off," Lois said.

"You know, honey," Perry began. He was feeling very avuncular tonight.

"What?"

"Clark goes to Friendly Friday meetings with me."

"Clark? Why?"

"He said he had a run-in with some designer drugs when he was younger," Perry said. At Lois' look of incomprehension, he leaned over and murmured to her, "Red Kryptonite?"

He saw understanding bloom in her face.

"And I know he's trying to work the program," Perry went on.

"And?" Lois said slowly.

"Part of the program is teaching you to be honest with yourself and others," Perry said. "If you're not honest, you're going to go back to your old habits." He took another bite of pie. "And then, if you're a serious drinker like myself, you'll die."

"Clark wouldn't die from Red K," Lois demurred.

"That's not the point," Perry said. "All I can tell you is that Clark is trying to work the program. And no matter how mad we are at him, he's said that he won't do, you know, the glasses thing again. I think he's being honest with us. And, even though it still irks me sometimes, I'm going to trust him."

Lois sighed. "I don't know if I can do that yet, Perry."

"I don't blame you, Lois. He hurt you the most."

She looked away. "Yes."

"All I can say is, for me, please keep working with him. Please keep talking with him. Get back everything he took from you. Maybe you'll never be able to trust him again. Can you at least work with him? Can you be civil to him – for the sake of your son?" Perry cast the last barb sharply.

Lois looked away again and took another bite of pie. "I guess I have to," she said slowly.


	32. Step Twelve, Part Thirteen

Perry saw that Lois did try over the next few weeks. She and Clark worked together professionally. At first, their conversation was stilted and purely work-related. As the days went on, Perry assumed that Clark talked to Lois and that she regained more lost memories. He noticed that Lois gradually became more easy with Clark, that she started laughing at his corny jokes, and she relaxed her previous tight posture. Clark didn't change. When Lois wasn't watching, Perry caught Clark looking at Lois like a man in a desert looking at a frosty pitcher of cool water.

Perry wondered what memories Lois regained. From what the two of them had said, they'd had quite a history together before Lois' memory had been stolen. He wondered what she felt now, remembering that distant past, and also remembering the more recent past where she hadn't known Clark Kent's other identity. Was it strange for her to be reconciling the two faces of Lois?

At least she didn't try to keep Jason from Clark anymore. The child often spent time in the newsroom. He was well-trained for a four-and-a-half-year-old, usually drawing pictures, or more often now, practicing his reading on simple words and large headlines. (He devoured print, now that he was learning to read, and Clark was often found reading to Jason. Jason's vocabulary and comprehension increased daily.) Lois and Richard had been careful to teach Jason to not bother the busy reporters who were trying to get out stories before deadline.

But Jason often approached Clark, and no matter what the large reporter was doing, he always set it aside at Jason's approach. Clark often pulled up a separate chair, for Jason to sit next to Clark at Clark's desk. Perry laughed silently at times to see Jason standing in the chair in his excitement, leaning over to show Clark a particularly engrossing drawing.

Perry noticed that Clark never held Jason in his lap in the newsroom anymore. After he'd told Clark that that was what alerted him to Jason's paternity, Perry felt that Clark wanted to avoid that situation again. It didn't help, in Perry's eyes. For those with eyes to see, the body shape, the lines of the face proclaimed who Jason's biological father was. Fortunately, thought Perry, in the newsroom most of the people didn't notice – they were too busy focusing on their own tasks.

He knew Clark wouldn't send Jason away – Clark would take the chance of someone else noticing. The time with his son, even an unacknowledged son, was too precious to Clark.

In fact, Perry wondered if Richard had noticed. He saw his nephew staring one day at Jason, talking excitedly to Clark at Clark's desk, and Clark leaning over to examine a crayoned opening sentence of a play article meant to be delivered to Uncle Perry for editing.

"You know, Lois has been spending a lot of time with Clark lately," Richard observed, watching Clark and Jason from inside Perry's office.

"I assigned them together," Perry said shortly. "If anyone can find Lex Luthor, it'll be those two."

"I didn't know they were that close partners," Richard persisted, his voice even.

"What? You mean that Clark can make Lois back down? He can make her think twice about jumping in without checking the water level? And Lois can make Clark get out of his cautious, check-everything-three-times mindset?" Perry challenged his nephew. "They're a good team, Richard. They complement each other. I'd be a fool to not put them together."

"Um," Richard said noncommittally.

"They're going to win a Pulitzer for the _Planet,_" Perry said. Silence.

"Lois missed dinner three times this week," Richard said.

Perry sighed mentally. He had no desire to get involved. In fact, he already knew too much.

"Richard, I'm a busy editor. I'm not Dear Abby. If you have issues with Lois, then talk to her about it." His tone was clipped. Perry knew a train wreck was approaching and he desperately wanted to avoid the flying debris. The love triangle – a classic plot for years in all genres, from opera to soap opera. Except it wasn't as fun to watch when it involved people in your own family, or people you really cared about. Someone was going to get hurt here, no matter what.

It was up to Lois, Clark, and Richard to talk it all out and settle things. Perry had never had to do anything like that. He'd never officially cheated on Alice. His love affair was with the bottle.

He sighed, audibly this time. "Richard," Perry said, "I assigned them the story. They're working as hard as they feel they need to on it. You knew Lois was like that. She tends to overwork." He took a deep breath. "Don't let her forget that she has a family and a son."

"OK, Perry," Richard said quietly. He wasn't going to go without a fight, Perry could tell. Yep, the train wreck was coming.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

"Lois, do you want to go out for coffee again?" Perry asked her, obliquely referring to their unique situation. Clark was out, presumably at some rescue or other.

Lois raised her eyebrows. "Do we need to?"

"I don't know. Do we?" Perry retorted.

"I don't think we need a coffee meeting this week, Perry," Lois said. "Clark told me he was sorry so many times that I made him stop apologizing," she added, regaining a bit of the verve she'd had weeks ago. "I'm still making him grovel, though."

Perry couldn't help but smile. "How is he, with the grovel?"

"No challenge," Lois said smartly. "He actually grovels quite well."

Perry chuckled noiselessly, then turned serious. "Really, Lois, how are things coming along?"

Lois sat down in the big chair and took on her own serious tone. "I think we're doing….OK, Chief."

"OK?"

"Yeah. OK." Lois drummed her fingers on the chair arm. "I'm still a little mad at him." She took a deep breath. "I think I have started trusting him again, though."

Perry raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.

"He apologized so nicely, he said he hadn't meant to do it….repeat that fifty times and I'm beginning to think he might actually be sincere," Lois said.

"And you?" Perry asked her sharply.

"I'm remembering a lot more," Lois said, in the strange almost-telepathy that she shared with Perry, built up over their long years together. She could almost finish his sentences sometimes, and it was eerie how their thoughts often ran on the same wavelength. The only person Perry had seen Lois be more attuned to was, of course, Clark. They _did _finish each other's sentences.

"And?" Perry asked.

"It's harder to hate him now," Lois whispered. A wealth of meaning unspoken.

"You know you can ask me for help if you need anything," Perry offered uncertainly. Then, more confidently, he added, "An ass-kicking, maybe?"

Lois laughed. "I think I already took care of that, Perry."

Perry laughed too. "Well, don't do it too hard or too often, because then, what would I do?"

"Ah, you'd be fine," Lois teased him.

"OK, then, I'm OK to tell you and Clark to get moving on the Lex Luthor story, then?" Perry asked. "You're OK with working together? Getting better?"

"Yes."

"OK," Perry said flatly. "Get moving on the Lex Luthor story." He breathed in. "Not just for the story, but to protect you. Not just you and Jason, but Clark too."

"I know that," Lois said. "I think we're getting somewhere on it – I've got that _feeling_, you know…"

"I know," Perry replied. He did know that feeling –he got it when a story was just about to come together, trembling on the cusp of completion. "Be careful, Lois."

"I will, Perry." Lois got up and walked out of his office.

* * *

Perry looked away from Richard, who had come to his office for a quick discussion on the best way to lay out the news of the latest altercation in the Middle East. He saw Lois leaning back in her chair, curiously relaxed. Clark stood next to her, bending down to whisper something in her ear, a cautious smile on his face. He reached down and took her hand. She didn't pull it away. They squeezed hands together in a comradely moment. Perry saw Richard catch the moment and stiffen slightly.

Actually, for the last day and a half, Richard had been casting curious glances at Clark. It had started after Perry, in the newsroom with Richard, had gazed out through the windows to see Jason sitting in Clark's lap, the tall reporter bent over the small boy. At that moment, the two had looked so much alike that Perry had almost gasped. He wondered if Richard had seen it, too – it seemed likely. Richard had been acting very stiffly towards Clark since then, and only slightly less so around Lois. He'd made excuses to get away from the reporting partners. Perry very much feared that Richard had seen what was becoming more and more obvious, and was just taking some time to decide how to broach the subject with Lois. Perry wasn't looking forward to the upcoming soap opera in his newsroom.

After a moment, Lois stood up and walked to Perry's office. She knocked.

"Come."

"Hey, Perry," she said, "you'll be happy to hear – oh, hi, Richard." Apparently she hadn't seen her fiancé in the corner.

"Lois," Richard said evenly.

Perry turned his gaze from the awkward pair and back onto the newsroom. Jason, apparently tiring of coloring at Clark's desk, got up and scampered over to Clark, who was sitting at Lois' desk. He held some pictures in his hand and began showing them to Clark, who perused them with solemn attention.

"Anyway, Perry," Lois said, regaining Perry's attention, "you'll be happy to hear that –" a tinge of pride in her voice. " – Clark and I think we know where Lex Luthor is hiding out."

Perry eyebrows raised in surprise. He looked over at Richard – his nephew was just as flabbergasted.

"Whoa! Lois! That's good news!" Perry said. "Wait a minute…" as the implications came to him.

"Don't worry, Chief," Lois said. "We've already contacted Inspector Henderson privately. We don't know how many moles Luthor has in the Metropolis P.D. Henderson got a team together – a trustworthy team – and they should be arresting Luthor right about now."

"I don't think that Lex Luthor is one to go quietly," Richard interjected, worriedly. Perry nodded – he'd been thinking the same thing.

"I think Henderson might be calling on Maggie Sawyer and the Special Crimes Unit," Lois said. "I'm pretty sure she's clean. And the SCU is known for handling stuff like that."

"You're not going?" Perry asked. "This is your story, Lois. I'd expect you to be there at the takedown."

"I wanted to," she admitted. Then her eyes flicked to Jason, now tugging at Clark's hand in the newsroom, urging him to do something. "But Henderson asked me specifically not to."

_I bet Clark asked you not to as well, _Perry thought.

"You think Superman will be there?" asked Richard. "Did you tell him?" A little jealousy in the tone, Perry judged, but well-disguised.

"Clark was able to get in contact with him," Lois said after an infinitesimal pause. "But Luthor has kryptonite. I think Superman will be watching, but he'll let the SCU handle it."

As if prompted by her words, her cell phone rang. She viewed the display. "Henderson," Lois said. Silence for a few minutes. Lois' face broke into a smile. "They got him," she said. She collapsed into Perry's office chair. Perry thought he knew why – the release of unbearable tension at last.

"Lois!" Perry said.

"What?"

"You've known all this time – "

"Only yesterday and today."

" – and you didn't tell us?" Perry said, aggrieved. From his view of Richard, the younger man felt the same way.

"Chief, I didn't dare." She sat up in the chair, put an earnest tone into her voice. "I can trust you two," she said. "But this office? Everyone who works here? Are there recording devices around? With Lex Luthor, you don't take any chances."

Perry fought back indignant words. Of course, Lois was right. Luthor fully deserved the epithet of Evil Genius.

"Lois…" Richard said quietly.

"Can't you be happy for me?" she burst out. "We just finished a story that's going to win the Pulitzer, and all you can think about is that I didn't keep you updated on it?"

Perry saw Clark's head turn toward the office. He stood up, Jason hastily gathering up his crayon drawings and following the tall reporter's action.

"Honey," Richard said placatingly, "You did the right thing. I know it'll be a great story." He was in full soothing mode here, Perry thought.

"I'm sorry, Richard," Lois said wearily. "I've been working on this like a maniac for weeks. And it's finally over…"

"I know, Lois," Richard said quietly. He took a deep breath and pasted a cheerful expression on his face. "This calls for some celebration."

"Nothing too big," Lois warned. She was collapsed tiredly into the chair.

Richard looked over at Perry. "Perry, Alice is out for the night again, isn't she?"

"It's that darn women's club meeting again," Perry said grumpily.

Lois gave a tiny smile at Perry's irritation.

The door to the office opened, and Clark and Jason stepped in. The young boy held the reporter's hand confidently.

Before Richard saw the two, he said to Perry, "Well, why don't you come over for dinner with us tonight? We can celebrate Lois' story."

"Yay!" Jason screeched, causing Richard and Perry to flinch. "Uncle Perry and Mr. Clark are coming over for dinner!" Jason's smile surprised Perry with the way it changed the boy's face. _That's because you haven't seen him smile since he was kidnapped by Luthor, _Perry realized.

Then Perry almost laughed as he caught the inadvertent glance between Richard and Clark, and the fleeting expression of dismay on both faces. It was obvious that Richard didn't want to have Clark over for dinner, and that Clark didn't want to come to dinner with Richard.

"Uh…." Clark mumbled.

"Please, Mommy?" Jason persisted, as the tense silence in Perry's office persisted.

Lois looked down at her son, and Perry saw that she was thinking the same thing about Jason's smile as he had – that it was a long time since Jason had smiled this broadly.

"Sure," Lois said. "Perry?" Perry nodded.

"Clark?"

Clark's eyes skittered from Lois to Richard (who had assumed a poker face) down to Jason. A slow smile softened his lips as he saw Jason barely restraining himself from jumping up and down.

"I'd like that very much," Clark said softly.

Silence again.

"Well, then," Richard said awkwardly, "I guess I'd better leave now and pick up some food on the way. Come on, sport," he gestured to Jason. "You can help me at the store."

Jason ran eagerly to Richard. "Can we have that lasagna again?" he asked.

"I'll think about it," Richard said. "Perry, since I'm taking our car, can you drive Lois and Clark to the house?" _And chaperone them, _he carefully didn't say. "It'll take me about an hour to get things going."

"Sure," Perry said.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy!" Jason said. Obviously, dinner with the important adults in his life was a major thrill.

"Come on, sport," Richard said. He took Jason's hand and the two left Perry's office.

Perry gave Lois and Clark a hard glare. "You couldn't have told me?"

Clark sat down wearily as well. "We were trying to protect you," he said quietly. "And also, I'm not too sure about the security here at the _Planet_. I know we're OK here in your office, Perry," and here Clark casually pulled down his glasses just a bit, giving Perry a significant glance, "but the rest of the newsroom – I think even Superman would have trouble keeping up on it sometimes."

Perry sat down himself, considering. "Why wasn't Superman there at the Luthor arrest?" he demanded.

"Superman _was _there," Clark said. "He was flying above, ready to step in if anything went wrong." He smiled. "Lois just got the official call, but actually the arrest was done about an hour ago. It went like clockwork. Bill Henderson is a good cop," he added.

"And Superman told me that Luthor _did _have kryptonite," Lois said firmly. "So it's a good thing that Superman wasn't, you know, involved in the arrest."

"Lois…" Clark said pleadingly.

"I mean it!" Lois snapped. "Superman thinks he has to do everything." She got up and started pacing. "When will he learn that there are a lot of other people who can do their jobs and do them right, and stuff will get handled?" Perry hadn't seen her ranting this hard for a long time.

"Everybody else delegates!" Lois continued. "Perry delegates! I delegate research to Jimmy!" She reached down and pulled Clark's tie so that he was forced to look into her eyes. "If Superman doesn't stop doing stuff that other people could do, he won't have any time! He won't have a life!" Lois said significantly. She released his grip on his tie and Clark fell back into the chair.

"Um, good point, Lois," Perry said, playing the peacemaker. "Maybe the next time you see Superman, you could tell him that." He winked at Clark. "I've always thought that ever since he came back, Superman has been burning the candle at both ends. Maybe he does need to kick back a little and let the emergency services handle what they can."

Clark sat up. "Well, Perry, Lois, I think what you're saying has some truth in it. But you know, there are so many things that only Superman can do, so many times that someone would be hurt without him responding…."

Perry saw Lois inhaling for further argument and hurriedly stepped in. "I'm sure you're right, Clark." Lois forestalled momentarily, Perry added, "Now about this Luthor arrest…."

"We remembered some stuff from our Smallville days," Lois said, attention diverted. "Clark knew Lex really well then, and he was able to make some guesses as to Lex's pattern of behavior now."

"Even with…" Perry indicated Clark's glasses, and by implication, the Kryptonian memory-erasing technology.

"It doesn't change who he really is, underneath," Clark rumbled. "I think we are the only ones, though, from those early days. The only ones who knew him before Lex became what he is today." The big man sounded sad and weary.

"You can't save everyone, Clark," Lois said softly, putting her hand on top of his.

"It still hurts," Clark said equally softly, reaching to clasp her hand between his.

"Well, you two, I'm assuming you've got the story written?" Perry said in a businesslike tone. He'd spent too much time already.

"Uh, yeah, Chief," Lois replied. "We just have to add a couple of quotes from Henderson and Sawyer. Since we gave them the tip, I don't think we'll have any trouble there."

"OK, back to work, then," Perry said briskly. The two stood up. "And make sure you're all set, because when somebody else is cooking, I don't want to be late for dinner." He smiled. "The bus is leaving in about forty-five minutes. Be on time."


	33. Step Twelve, Part Fourteen

_Author's note: This section makes reference to events in the "Smallville" TV series Season Three episode "Truth", Season Six episode "Prototype", and Season Seven episode "Bizarro"._

* * *

Perry got into his nondescript sedan from the _Planet _parking garage. He'd listened to teasing from Lois and Clark about his choice of wheels all the way to his parking space. Finally, he retorted.

"Lois, you're a fine one to talk! At least my car is inconspicuous!" Perry said in mock anger. "It's kind of hard to go on a stakeout in Suicide Slum with the latest model. You've had so many new cars it's like you're a shill for the auto companies."

"Well, if the bad guys didn't keep blowing them up…." Lois said.

Perry didn't let her talk, turning to Clark. "And you! You don't even need a car!"

Clark smiled and shrugged, not abashed in the least. "Well, yeah."

"So stop ragging on me! We can't all drive the latest Audi, can we, Lois?"

"Right, Chief," she said happily, recognizing Perry's pretend ire for what it was. But she stopped the teasing.

Perry drove out past the parking lot gatehouse, turned onto the potholed street (_hm, this road is really bad – better do another series on who's getting the contract for repairing Metropolis streets)_ and set off for Lois and Richard's house. He was alone in the front; Clark and Lois had chosen to ride together in the back seat. Perry peered at them in his rearview mirror. The two sat carefully on opposite ends of the seat, meticulously seatbelted as required by New Troy state law, body language as well as distance maintaining their separation.

They did talk together, though. Lois had forgiven Clark to that extent. And conversation was easy between them. Clark had leaned forward and taken a breath when Perry interrupted him.

"Clark?"

"Yes, Perry?"

"I was going to tune to the traffic station and see where today's bottlenecks are, but you can do better than that for us, can't you?"

Clark had a blank look on his face for a moment, then smiled. Perry supposed it was a nice change from the usual Superman requests – save me, rescue my kids from the fire, stop the muggers, catch the bullets. Perry didn't know it if was entirely kosher to ask Superman to plan your route home with the express intent of avoiding traffic tie-ups, but he was going to ask anyway. He'd spent too many hours creeping home or worse, idling at a standstill while emergency services cleared away some accident or obstruction.

"Sure, Perry," Clark said, chuckling a little. He took off his glasses and stared intently ahead for a short time.

"Good thing you asked me," Clark said. "Big backup on the highway - "

"Is it a job for Superman?" Lois asked, only partly sarcastically.

"No, it's some fender benders that are well in hand. If Superman comes, the gawker delays will be worse than what they've got right now."

Perry cleared his throat.

"Oh," Clark said. "Well, if you turn here, and take Maple to Fifth, and then go on, you should avoid the worst of it."

"After that?" Perry asked.

"I'll check as we go, give you updates."

"OK. Thanks," Perry replied. He followed Clark's directions and turned onto a relatively traffic-free side street. "I guess waiting in traffic jams is annoying for you, huh?"

"Oh God," Clark moaned, "it's torture. When I'm stuck in a car, and it's going to be an hour before we get there, and I could fly and get there in five seconds…."

Lois snorted.

"Except with Lois, of course," Clark hastily backtracked. "I don't mind being with her."

Awkward silence. Then everyone jumped in at once.

"What'd you use to drive in Smallville?" Perry asked desperately.

"Do you remember that time that Whitney Fordman's truck blew up and he was OK? That was you, wasn't it?" asked Lois.

"Lois, do you remember that time on the Loeb Bridge when I had to inject you with the truth serum antidote?" Clark blurted.

Silence again.

Perry stepped in. "Well, Clark, your story sounds the most interesting – you go ahead."

Clark looked trapped. "Uh, well, we were juniors in high school, and Chloe, I mean Lois, had gotten into Luthorcorp and managed to get contaminated with a kryptonite-based serum. Whenever she questioned anyone, they had to tell the truth."

"Pretty good tool for a reporter," Perry grunted, avoiding a hurtling bicyclist zooming past on his right.

Lois had what Perry was coming to think of as "the memory restored" look. "Yeah," she said slowly, "but I found out that people need their secrets."

Perry turned his head, gave her a questioning look.

"I destroyed a woman's life – she was a fugitive from justice, and I made her betray herself," Lois said. "If Clark hadn't been immune to the truth serum, he would have told his secret right then, and I would have published it." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "That episode taught me something. Maybe it's right to find out, but is it right to publish?"

"Speaking as one who has secrets of his own, I'm a lot more inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt," Clark said quietly. He turned to Lois. "Do you remember…." He went off on a long tangent, and Perry saw Lois' eyes fill with understanding once again, as a piece of her past was restored to her.

Perry's phone rang.

"Hello, Richard," he answered.

"Perry?" Richard said.

"Yeah?"

"Can you pick up some bottled water?" Richard asked. "I forgot to get some and we're all out."

"No problem," said Perry and flipped his phone shut. _Time for my personal Mapquest again. _ He felt a devilish glee at the thought. "Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Where's the nearest place I can get some gas and some bottled water?"

Clark did that unfocused stare again. "If you turn here and go about a half mile, there's a mini-mart in the gas station."

"OK." Perry angled his sedan around the corner. In the back, Clark and Lois had resumed their animated conversation. Lois was starting to talk with her hands again, making emphatic gestures to punctuate her statements.

"Do you remember that time at the dam?" Clark asked.

"Not really," Lois said hesitantly.

"The dam?" Perry interjected. The only dam he knew nearby was Reeves Dam near Smallville.

"It was the day Lana died," Clark said. "Lex had set up an experiment and he was hiding his genetically modified super-soldiers in the underlying dam structure."

Dawning awareness in Lois' eyes.

"I got involved, uh, under a weird set of circumstances," Clark explained, "and Cat Grant, back when she was Lois Lane, had managed to track Lex there. And Lois, or Chloe as she was then, followed Cat. It was a good thing, because Cat had been stabbed…"

Perry saw Lois' face turn to stone.

"Was that when the dam burst?" he asked curiously.

"Yep," Clark agreed. "It's a long story, but basically Lex had pulled in a Kryptonian lab construct from the Phantom Zone – you remember I told you about the Phantom Zone, Perry?"

"Extradimensional jail?"

"Uh-huh. And through another bizarre set of circumstances – "

"Are there any other kind around you?" Perry was only half-joking.

"Not really, no," Clark said ruefully. "Anyway, this lab construct stole my DNA and became the anti-me – with my powers, but sort of opposite."

"That must have been interesting," Perry muttered. He noticed that Lois sat silently, the memory-restored look in full bloom.

"Uh, yeah," Clark said. "I was fighting him – you'd never guess, Perry," Clark said sarcastically, 'that an escaped prisoner from the Phantom Zone might be a bad guy – "

"No, never," Perry murmured.

Clark went on. "And anyway, in the battle, the dam ruptured."

"I was in Smallville that day!" Perry exclaimed. "I saw the dam!" Suddenly the light dawned and he cast a suspicious eye at Clark. "It was you, wasn't it?" he said as he'd said so many times before, now that he knew of Clark's other identity. "You were the one who kept the dam breach from flooding the town!"

Clark looked uncomfortable. "Um, yes." Perry's implacable stare forced Clark to continue. "I was able to vaporize the water with my heat vision."

"Aha!" Perry said. "Another mystery explained." He smiled. "I thought I was going to my grave never knowing how that Reeves Dam breach could have been so weird. I mean, it was impossible!"

"Impossible is relative," Clark murmured. Then, more loudly, he said, "I got Cat and Lois out of there – "

"Didn't they see you?" Perry asked curiously. "I mean, doing something otherworldly?" He loved asking Clark these kinds of questions. It fed the reporter-beast within. Clark was astoundingly good about maintaining the separation between his two selves. But Perry realized that this episode must have happened before the advent of the Kryptonian public persona and wondered how Clark had explained away the impossible.

"Well, Cat didn't see me use my abilities, and Lois….Lois was unconscious," Clark finished awkwardly.

Perry darted a look at Lois. She stared straight ahead, not responding.

"The mini-mart is right here," Clark said, quick to change the subject. Something about this topic had Lois spooked.

Perry pulled up to the gas pumps. Clark was quick to get out.

"You pump, Perry. I'll get the water inside and pay," he said. Before Perry could remonstrate with him, Clark had turned and was walking quickly to the mini-mart entrance.

Lois got out of the car, too. "Just want to stretch my legs," she murmured. She still seemed preoccupied.

Perry filled his tank, replaced the hose and the gas tank cap. He saw Clark at the cashier's, carrying a case of bottled water, and pulling out his wallet to pay. Perry had his passenger door open, as he leaned inside to get into the glove box to pull out his mileage diary. Years of habit had made Perry compulsive about recording destinations, mileages, and receipts. He'd done it even in his drinking days. (His handwriting was a lot more legible now.)

. What happened next was no one's fault, really. Perry had put his diary back into the glove box. Lois didn't see him. She came and slammed the door hard as she made her way back to her seat. Perry's fingers were caught in the door.

The pain was so great that for a moment Perry couldn't speak. Then he gave a strangled cry as he pulled his hand back, blood streaming down the fingers.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Chief!" Lois fluttered around. "It was an accident!"

Perry still couldn't speak. He cradled his injured right hand in his left, ignoring the blood seeping between his fingers. He was no expert, but it felt like his fingers were broken.

Clark came up, looking concerned, just as Lois grabbed Perry's hands.

"We've got to get you a bandage – " she began saying. Perry tried not to cry out as she jostled his fingers.

Clark set the water down on the car hood quickly. He had his glasses pulled down, staring at Perry's hands, and he looked concerned. "They're broken," he murmured.

But Perry didn't hear what Clark said, for at that moment, a strange glow arose from Lois' hands surrounding his own. And an astounding feeling of warmth and well-being passed through Perry, starting at Lois' hands, moving through his own hands, up his arms, traveling his body to his head and his toes. The pain disappeared. The glowing light winked out.

Lois collapsed.

Perry felt like collapsing too.


	34. Step Twelve, Part Fifteen

Lois collapsed.

Perry felt like collapsing too.

Clark caught them both, holding each up in one arm.

"What was that?" Perry asked. He shook his right hand. It was still covered in blood, but it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt wonderful. The nagging ache in his wrist (carpal tunnel, repetitive strain injury) had disappeared as well.

"Perry, just get in the car. Let's get out of here," Clark said tightly, flicking his eyes to the curious customer at the neighboring gas pump, and then up to the video surveillance cameras. "Can you stand?"

Perry considered it. "Yes."

"Then get in the car," Clark repeated. He released Perry, and carefully placed Lois in the back seat, on the passenger side, buckling her in. As he put the bottled water in the passenger front seat, he gave Perry a chiding glance, and Perry, brought to himself, walked hurriedly to the driver's seat and settled himself in. It wasn't till he had fastened his seatbelt that he realized he hadn't had any pain from his arthritic hip – not that it was really bad, but it just let Perry know it was there, usually.

"There's a fast food place two blocks away," Clark said, taking the lead. "Just go there and park in the lot."

Perry followed directions numbly.

Once Perry pulled into an inconspicuous corner of the lot, he put the car in park, and asked again, "What was that?" He was beginning to come out of his numb surprise.

Clark didn't answer. He had unbuckled Lois, and was holding her hand. He rubbed her neck and head, with concern on his face. After a moment Lois came back to consciousness.

"Lois," Clark said. Perry could hear the fervent relief in his voice.

"Clark," she murmured, and reached to him. He held her in his arms tightly. All three of them breathed heavily for a moment.

"What just happened?" Perry asked again. It was his instinct as a newsman.

Clark sighed, like he didn't want to say what he was going to say.

"Your fingers were broken," Clark said simply. "Lois healed them."

_What? _thought Perry. _She __**healed **__them? But that would mean…._

Lois' despairing cry met Perry's thoughts. "I'm a meteor freak!"

Clark hugged her more tightly, not caring that she had burst into tears and was soaking the shoulder of his suit.

Perry flexed his bloodstained hand, looked at it in awe. Wow. But then…._Lois is a meteor freak? _

He looked at the sobbing woman, hunched up, and his heart broke to see confident Lois, take-no-prisoners Lois, wiped out, broken, defeated. This must have been another thing that she hadn't remembered, Perry thought. There'd been injuries galore on Lois' stakeouts and stories, and there'd never been a hint of eldritch healing abilities. _Except that Lois always seems to heal faster than I expected, _Perry thought. But he'd attributed it to clean living and a healthy lifestyle. Despite Perry's mockery of Lois' tofu-eating habits, he recognized them as more conducive to a long life than his own grilled steaks. But she'd never healed anyone else before.

And she was probably worried, Perry thought, as his brain slowly came back online. Every meteor freak Perry knew of had turned bad, used his or her powers in some nasty way. Often, Superman was needed. In fact, Perry thought, narrowing his eyes, maybe Superman had been cleaning up after meteor freaks behind the scenes for years before he went public. Maybe that explained all the weird stuff in Smallville.

So, no wonder Lois was worried, he thought, as he watched her sniffles slowly die away. Maybe meteor freaks went bad. But somehow he couldn't see Lois becoming a bad guy. He snorted. Obviously, her talent was to heal. Perry was certain there was some way that could be perverted – look at all the bad doctors out there – but he just couldn't imagine Lois Lane using her powers for evil.

He cleared his throat, caught their eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

"I believe the politically correct term is 'metahuman'," Perry said. He followed it up with an encouraging smile.

"Perry?" Lois sniffled.

"Lois, honey, I know you're worried." Perry put on his best fatherly voice. "But this doesn't change who you are. You're still Lois Lane, girl reporter."

She smiled wobbily at the sarcastic eponym that they'd made so much fun of when she was hired in.

"But I'm – I'm – " she couldn't finish.

"You're who you always were," Clark interjected. "Right, Perry?"

"Right," Perry agreed.

"But meteor freaks – they're, they're – " Lois said. "I'm a walking time bomb." She said it with finality.

Clark held her close to him again. "A long time ago, you said that, Lois." He looked her straight in the eye. "And I told you I'll be your personal bomb squad." She met his gaze then. "That offer still holds." Intent seriousness in his voice.

Perry let out a covert sigh of relief.

Awkward silence filled the car. The only sound was Lois' muffled sobs, the tiny catch in her breathing.

"You know," Clark said after a moment, "I have some experience with this 'finding out you have powers' thing."

"I guess you would," Perry muttered. Lois gave another wobbly smile.

"And the first thing to do is – "

"Yes?" Lois asked.

"Get coffee," Clark said. "And talk about it." He gestured to the restaurant entrance. "Let's go in and get some coffee."

Perry looked at his bloodstained hands. Lois' hands were bloody, too.

"And wash up, too," Perry added.

The two men looked at Lois and she nodded slowly. "OK."

They got out of the car, Clark circling around quickly to aid Lois, who was still a little shaky on her feet. After a quick wash-up and stop at the counter, the three headed for the most isolated table in the room, holding their coffee closely.

Clark opened the conversation. "I was wondering when you'd remember your powers," he said quietly. "I knew it had to come sooner or later."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Lois lashed out. Behind that was the unspoken subtext, _Like you didn't tell me that you were Superman._

"Would you have wanted me to?" Clark asked her seriously.

She looked away. "I guess not," Lois murmured. "Ignorance is bliss."

Clark looked somber. "I did bring up the dam," he said. "I figured that would bring it back to you. It was a big part of you, and you needed to remember it." He looked down at the table. "I'm sorry." He reached for her hand, and she pulled it away. He put his own hand back on his lap. Awkward silence again.

"So, you can heal?" Perry couldn't help asking.

Lois nodded. "It's starting to come back to me."

"Well, thanks," Perry said belatedly. He flexed his fingers. "Good as new. Actually, maybe better than new." He still hadn't felt his carpal tunnel and it never left him alone this long.

"Lois might have overdone it a little bit," Clark murmured, a tiny smile on his face.

"Overdone it?" Lois and Perry asked simultaneously.

Clark shrugged. He lowered his voice, and the other two instinctively leaned in closer. "Lois, you got pretty good about controlling your power," he said. "The first time you used it was with Cat at the dam."

"I remember it, a little," Lois said slowly.

"Cat was stabbed. She almost died," Clark said. "When I found them in the dam wreckage, Cat was totally healed, and Lois was in a coma."

Perry raised his eyebrows.

"She was in a coma for eighteen hours," Clark said. "I was afraid she was dead." A wealth of unspoken feeling in that measured statement. Clark reached over and squeezed Lois' hand. This time, she let him. "Later on, as Lois learned to use her ability, she got to where she could meter out the power, just enough to heal the injury. So that it wouldn't drain her." He smiled at Lois. "Remember the Kramer case? And Mr. Pennyworth?"

Lois looked enlightened too. "I'm remembering more about this…" she got the blank look of interior communion again.

Clark turned back to Perry. "But she wasn't metering it with you. She poured out all her talent, all her heart, to heal you." He smiled. "I guess you got the benefit – she gave you a lot extra."

Perry did a quick self-inventory. His usual aches and pains were non-existent. He drew a conclusion from what Clark had said. "That's why you collapsed," he said to Lois.

"Yeah, I guess," she replied. She looked much revived with the sit-down and the coffee.

"Does it work on you?" Perry asked Clark curiously.

"I don't know. I've never needed it." Clark sipped his coffee delicately.

_Oh. Of course. _


	35. Step Twelve, Part Sixteen

They stayed at the restaurant long enough to have two cups of coffee each. Then they carefully re-entered Perry's sedan and headed out to Richard and Lois' house. Clark's abilities made sure that they avoided traffic tie-ups, so that they wouldn't be any later than Richard would expect for Metropolis rush hour traffic. No one said anything on the trip, but Perry, looking in his rearview mirror, saw that Lois sat next to Clark, clinging to him tightly, holding his hand. And Clark in turn looked at Lois with loving concern, keeping her next to him, holding her gently.

When they got to the house, Lois extracted her hand from Clark's, and led the two men to the front door, not speaking. Clark picked up the case of water bottles from the front seat, and Perry followed him up the front porch steps. Lois gestured them in.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Jason came running, hugged Lois around the waist. She reached down and hugged him back, almost desperately, Perry thought.

"Hiya, Uncle Perry! Mr. Clark!" Jason continued. "Daddy's in the kitchen. He's making pasta!" The boy scampered off. Obviously it was a thrill for him to have people to the house for dinner.

Perry and Clark followed Lois down the hall to the kitchen. Richard stood near the stove, stirring a bubbling pot. He came to Lois and hugged her, giving her a peck on the cheek. She hugged him back, too, and Perry couldn't help but think, _She's hugging him so hard because he's normal. Not some space alien, not a reformed drunk, not a metahuman with weird powers. He's just a normal guy and that's what she wants right now._

"Perry, Clark," Richard said, greeting them in an even tone. The two made mumbled responses. Then there was a moment of awkward stillness. Perry could sense the tension between Richard and Clark. Jason still chattered, oblivious to unspoken undercurrents.

Clark set the bottled water down on the table, then stood, hunched and gawky-looking. Lois cast her eyes rapidly between Richard and Clark, but seemed unable to say anything. The silence grew until Perry stepped in.

"Ah, Richard, you mind if I give Clark a little house tour?"

Richard gave an almost-inaudible sigh of relief, Clark relaxed slightly, and Richard said, "OK. It'll probably be about ten, fifteen minutes or so before dinner is ready." He pointed to a bottle. "Clark, you want some wine? We've got water and lemonade too. Perry?"

"Uh, maybe later," Clark mumbled. Perry declined for right now too, both of them wanting to get out of the kitchen.

Perry gestured Clark down the hallway, pointing out the surroundings with a minimum of description. "Here's the office….there's the stairs going up…." Clark took in his surroundings with an even face.

"Pretty nice home here, Perry," he said. "Maybe I should be agitating for a raise?"

Perry snorted. "Like you'd have a chance of getting it. Clark, it's only because of the trust fund from Richard's mother that he and Lois can live here." They had made their way to the sun porch that faced the water. Richard's seaplane bobbed at anchor, in view past an immaculately manicured lawn. "I'm the Editor-In-Chief at the _Planet, _and I'm not making anywhere near what it would cost to have this house at this location, not to mention the seaplane."

"Ah, well, then," Clark murmured, a tiny smile on his lips.

Perry led Clark down another passageway. "Did you really mean that about being Lois' bomb squad?" he blurted out.

Clark stopped, turned to look at him. "Yes," he said softly. He seemed to realize that Perry was agitated and wanted more. "Perry, you don't have to worry about Lois."

"I don't?" Perry repeated.

"Perry, she found out she was meteor-infected thirteen years ago. And she agonized about it for months. She'd done a lot of research, you know."

"I know. I saw the Wall of Weird she put up back at the office of her high school newsletter."

Clark smiled. "That is so _Lois._" His smiled dimmed. "Anyway, after she found out about herself, she got even more interested in the meteor-infected. As you might expect. And so we got together and did some figuring." He shrugged. "Perry, you know that the meteor-infected tend to get some strange powers."

"I've seen it myself. Heck, it just happened to me today," Perry shivered, remembering the strange glow that had encompassed him – and healed him.

"Do you know what percentage of the known meteor-infected use their powers for ill?"

Perry smiled. "That sounds so melodramatic when you say that."

Clark smiled back, just a little. "I know. But editorial considerations aside, do you know?"

"No," Perry admitted. "I figure there's some reporting bias – I mean, only the dramatic or the damaging makes the news."

"That's true," Clark allowed. "But because of my abilities, and Lois' investigative savvy, and growing up in Smallville, the two of us are aware of a lot of metahumans who don't make the news."

"So what did you find out?" Perry asked. This seemed important to Clark.

"Eighty-two percent," Clark said.

"What?" Perry asked. "Eighty-two percent of the meteor freaks – sorry, the metahumans – " he couldn't finish.

"Yep," Clark confirmed. "If you have some strange power, you've got less than a one-in-five chance of using it for good. Statistically speaking."

"You sure about that?" Perry queried. "I mean, again, what about sampling bias? There must be people with meteor powers who don't use their powers, or use them discreetly, right? I mean, I thought you were meteor-infected before, and I didn't say anything because I knew you were a good guy."

"Good point, Perry," Clark said, ignoring the comment about himself. "Lois and I could only count the people that showed themselves." He seemed grim for a moment. "Lex Luthor, I think, had a way of detecting the latent metahumans at one time, and he tended to swoop down and throw those people into an evil laboratory. Unauthorized human experimentation."

"The story that got Lois her Pulitzer," Perry acknowledged.

"But it doesn't change the fact that most people, presented with power, make a hash of it," Clark said somberly. "Some of them really are bad people, but I think most of them didn't mean to hurt anyone – they just did things and got deeper in and couldn't get out without doing harm."

Perry nodded slowly.

"So you can see why Lois is so upset," Clark said. "She had worked through all this years ago, but then I took it from her. Then this afternoon she gets back all those memories in a moment. _And _she uses her power for the first time in ten years, incidentally outing herself. Of which she is deathly afraid, although not as afraid as I am about my own secret being found out."

"I won't tell," Perry said awkwardly.

"I know," Clark replied. "But she's facing all this, and she has to come to terms with it." He looked especially somber. "I went through five years of isolation on my trip to Krypton and back. It was hard, but one thing I got out of it, Perry, was that I know who I am. What I am. What I stand for. What I'll do and what I won't do." He looked carefully at Perry. "I think, going to AA, you've been through a lot of the same. You've stripped yourself of your pretensions, gotten away from the lies. You know who you are."

"And Lois?" Perry couldn't help asking.

"She figured out who she was years ago," Clark said quietly. "I took it from her. She's a different person now. But now things have changed. It's back, and she has to come to terms with it again." He turned away from Perry, began moving again. "What I think is really bothering her is, how will she tell Richard? Or _what_ will she tell Richard?"

"Oh," Perry said. Much thought in that. He remained silent as they went back downstairs. He couldn't let the topic go. "I don't think Lois will use her power for evil."

Clark sighed. "I don't think she would either. Firstly, she's just not that type of person – you know that and I know that. And using her talent isn't easy….she has to take on the pain of the one she heals."

"Oh," Perry said faintly.

"And I promised her long ago I wouldn't let her go bad," Clark said. "And she promised me the same."

That stopped Perry in his tracks. Superman….going bad?

"You?" he couldn't help but whisper. Bad memories of the rogue Kryptonians raced through his head.

"Uh, yes," Clark admitted, obviously not wanting to bring this up, but realizing he had to. "There were a few times in my earlier days…hypnosis, mind control by the Fortress AI….red kryptonite…." He trailed off. "Anyway, Lois has a piece of kryptonite in her file drawer just in case." Clark carefully didn't look at Perry. Perry figured the other was probably picking up on his racing heart and respiration. "I should probably get you your own piece," Clark said. "You're one of the few people I trust to take me down if I ever need it."

Perry gradually calmed. "Well, thanks….I think." The thought of Superman going rogue profoundly disturbed him, but at the same time he was aware of the trust that Clark reposed in him to tell him of Clark's weakness and even offer to give him the key to his vulnerability. It was awe-inspiring, really.

Clark touched his arm. Perry stopped.

"I mean it, Perry," Clark said softly. "I trust you."

Perry swallowed, unable to speak. He nodded.

They moved into the den. Perry saw Clark looking at the various pictures on the wall, which included two federal Duck Stamps, both framed and matted in such a way that an actual stamp was next to a larger print of the painting that appeared on that year's stamp; a reproduction of Frederic Remington's _Dismounted: The 4__th__ Troopers Moving;_ a copy of Edwin Landseer's painting of a stag, _"The Monarch of the Glen"_; and, in what Perry figured gave a hint of how Richard had managed to attract Lois, a large replica of the famous _"Dogs Playing Poker". _

Clark looked at the painting, chuckling at the bulldog passing an Ace of Spades under the table to his partner.

"I'm guessing that Richard is an outdoorsman," he said.

"Yes," Perry replied. "Actually, he was mostly brought up by his grandparents – his mother's parents. When my brother and his wife were killed in the car accident, his grandparents got custody." He paused; remembering his brother's death, as always, sent sadness through him. "His grandfather was always going on hunting and fishing trips, and Richard went on a lot with him. I actually didn't get to know Richard well until he was in his twenties, when he started working at the _Planet._" Sardonically, Perry added, "Of course, I was in my drinking days when Richard was young, and I was letting a lot of things slide back then."

"That's interesting," Clark said absently, as he paced down the room. It had a very hunting-and-fishing décor, from the wallpaper border to the leather-covered furniture. A taxidermied trout on a plaque adorned one wall, and animal-themed sculptures were scattered on end tables. Clark ran his hand over a quarter-scale replica of a Remington sculpture, "The Bronco Buster". Perry had always liked that one for its verve and action captured in metal. Clark stopped at a large gun safe and got that unfocused look in his eyes again.

"Hm...Remington Model 870….two of them…..looks like Richard, or his grandfather, has a fondness for Remingtons – the artist and the firearms…that must be the bismuth shot next to the stainless steel and the lead….a bunch of Rugers….oh, wow, he's got some really nice Schuetzen rifles!" Perry didn't know what to say to this. Clark continued his musings. "…lots of ammo….hey, that's unusual….did Richard ever go on safari?"

"Not as far as I know, but his grandfather did," Perry said. "Why?"

"I can see a double-rifle Purdey .600 back in there, and there's a large-caliber Holland & Holland, too," Clark said, not taking his glance away from the safe. "The ammo for that is the size of a mini-Maglite. I wonder if his grandfather shot any Cape buffalo – there's a whole bunch of safari rifles in there. You don't see those every day." Silence. "Richard's grandfather must have been pretty wealthy."

"As he told me once, rather snottily, I may add," Perry said, "he was a Smith of the Amalgamated Consolidated Smiths."

The two men both laughed.

"Well, I don't know if Richard's using the guns or not – I don't think those ones in the back have been used for awhile?" Clark asked.

"I think he does a little duck hunting with friends at times," Perry said. "Do you hunt?"

Clark became momentarily still. "I used to, with my Dad, when I was a kid. But when I got to be about fourteen or fifteen, and started getting my abilities….after that, it wasn't sporting."

"Oh," Perry said lamely.

Clark turned back to the safe. "Hey, quite a few handguns in there too."

"Those are probably Lois's", Perry said. "She doesn't like to carry, but she keeps up her marksmanship. I think she prefers the unarmed combat, though. She told me once that people don't expect it from someone her size."

"Hmm….Colt .45….Ruger .22 Standard….Smith & Wesson Military and Police Polymer…Glock .40….wow, looks like Lois practices with a bunch of different models."

"She's prepared," Perry said. "She's made a lot of enemies over the past few years."

"Yeah, she's got about six months worth of ammunition in there, too," Clark said. "I hope they keep this locked."

"Huh?"

"There's a Glock right there in front, and it's loaded and ready to shoot. The safety isn't on. Gosh, I hope they keep Jason away from that."

"Well, the safe is locked," Perry said, checking it to be sure.

Further speculation was interrupted by Jason, who scampered into the room. "Daddy says to tell you to come in for dinner," he blurted out, then ran back to the kitchen. Clark looked at Perry and sighed. Perry shrugged.


	36. Step Twelve, Part Seventeen

Dinner was not a success.

Oh, the food – a fettucine marinara, plus or minus chicken for those who wanted it, along with green salad, garlic bread, and ice cream – was excellent. Wine was offered but everyone declined – Perry feared it was in acknowledgement of his drinking problem. He had no problem with other people enjoying alcohol, and he was at a point in his sobriety where he could see a bottle on the table and not obsess about it. The craving had certainly lessened as the years went by.

But conversation was stilted and desultory. Lois said almost nothing, sitting small at the table, looking almost wounded. Perry assumed she was brooding over her newly-discovered metahuman status and its implications.

Richard sat at the head of the table, Lois and Perry on one side, Clark and Jason on the other. Richard's gaze jittered between Lois, Clark, and Jason enough to make Perry wonder what the other man knew. Richard tried to draw Lois out, but she disregarded his conversational openers.

Clark had resumed the annoying nerdy persona that he'd given up using around Perry when the two of them were alone. Perry remembered now how much some of Clark's mannerisms irritated him – the high-pitched, whiny voice, the hunched, closed-in posture, the clumsiness. Clark managed to spill his ice water, soaking his own trousers. Jason laughed out loud before being chided by Richard about good manners. Clark shot Jason a conspiratory rueful grin.

Perry tried to include Jason in the conversation, asking him what he was learning in school, and what books he was reading, but Jason had years to go before he developed a competent line of small talk. Jason apparently saw Perry as the forbidding authority figure (no doubt from spending so much time in the newsroom, where he saw grown men and women leaping to do Perry's bidding and quivering at Perry's displeasure.) He shyly answered Perry's direct questions, politely, in as few words as possible.

Perry noticed that Jason did speak with Clark, though. Clark waited a decent time after Perry had asked Jason a question and then asked the same question. Jason set off into a long story about his kindergarten teacher and the book they were reading out loud in class. Perry sighed internally; he'd never signed up to be the Frightener of Small Children, but at least right now, that was the role he was cast in.

Clark and Jason continued their chat, and Perry noticed Richard getting a dour look on his face. With Jason speaking animatedly, and Clark's face relaxed into what Perry was coming to recognize as his "non-disguised Clark" persona, the resemblance between the two was evident for those with eyes to see. As dinner progressed, Perry suspected that Richard had seen the truth of Jason's paternity, and that he was only waiting for the awkward dinner to be over to be rid of his unwelcome guests. Then, Perry surmised, Jason would be sent to bed, and Richard would have a long heart-to-heart with Lois.

Richard grew progressively more dour, and in desperation, Perry broke up the Clark-Jason chatter with a question about the seaplane. Clark shot Perry an appreciative look – he was picking up on the unspoken subtext too – and drew Richard out. After a few minutes, they got Richard talking about how he'd gotten the seaplane, where he'd taken his pilot training, what he had to do to keep up his pilot's license, the mandatory FAA inspection every year on the plane, how he'd become (mostly) his own mechanic, and what were his favorite places to fly. Richard seemed grateful for the diversion as well, and the conversation among the three men began to flow more naturally.

Lois gradually emerged from her funk, and began adding her two cents, talking about the places Richard had taken her flying. Perry suspected this might be a not-so-subtle dig at Clark in some fashion. Having been flying with both men (as he knew Lois had done), Perry found that he preferred flying with Clark as Superman. It was quieter, you got door-to-door service, and you didn't have to take off your shoes to go through airport security. He wondered if Lois was trying to point out to Clark, obliquely, that she was going to stay with Richard. Clark seemed to be wondering, too, trying to puzzle out Lois' motivations, based on his apparent preoccupation and gradual disconnection from the conversation.

"I was glad that you had the seaplane when you went out and got Lois and Jason from Luthor's yacht," Perry said, the talk having turned to that alarming episode. Lois (and Jason with her, on his way home from school) had wandered onto the yacht as part of her investigation on the Metropolis blackout, and had stepped right into Lex Luthor's evil plot. Perry wondered again, how fate seemed to join Lois and Lex – the strangest circumstances tended to happen that brought them together.

"I wouldn't have known where to look if Lois hadn't faxed her coordinates to the _Planet_," Richard said, with the air of one giving credit where credit was due. Then, more somberly, he added, "We were lucky Superman was there. I still have nightmares sometimes…."

Perry caught Lois nodding, saw her shoot Clark a gaze, and mouth "Thank you." Perry had heard the story from Lois (pre-knowing), about how she, Jason, and Richard had almost drowned, trapped in the galley of a sinking yacht. Superman had lifted the yacht out of the ocean, opened the door of their prison, and pulled them out. Personally, if it were him, Perry figured he'd have post-traumatic stress disorder for the rest of his life. But Lois seemed to be able to handle stuff like that….

Perry's mouth ran away with him. "Superman was lucky to have you there, from what I've heard," he said. He found himself curious. Richard and Lois had saved the superhero from drowning, after Lex Luthor had beaten and stabbed Superman. (_That _hadn't been printed in the _Daily Planet._) They'd pulled him from the ocean onto the seaplane, and taken off for safety in Metropolis.

Richard had gone out for coffee with Perry a week after the episode, and had curled the hair on Perry's toes with his tales of the dangerous flying involved. Only the grace of God, and maybe skyhooks, Perry figured, had kept that seaplane up in the air when Richard was trying to escape from the expanding kryptonite continent. If he'd been there, Perry thought, he'd have needed a change of underwear. He had to admire Richard's courage.

"Why'd you go back for him anyway?" Perry asked Richard. "You were clear. All you had to do was fly back to Metropolis. I know you must have wanted to get your family safe."

Lois and Clark looked at Perry in surprise. It wasn't like Perry to stir the pot.

Richard shrugged. "He'd just saved our lives. What was I going to do, not go back? Let him drown?" He shrugged again, and Perry saw the essential decency and honesty in Richard, the underlying core that had attracted Lois. "Besides," Richard continued, in the air of one who said something self-evident, "Lois said to go back."

Perry caught Clark's rueful smile at that. Obviously, Richard wasn't the only man who did what Lois said.

Then Clark caught Lois' eye. It was almost as if they were telepathic, Perry mused. Lois gave a tiny nod, mirrored by Clark's. Perry saw Clark sit straighter, and begin to assume the posture, the presence, the personality of Superman. It was subtle, but Perry had begun to recognize the signs.

_What? _Perry thought. _He's not going to – _

"I want to thank you for coming back," Clark said in that deep voice.

_He's going to. I can't believe it. In front of Jason and everything. What is he thinking? _

Richard turned, knowing Clark was different in some fashion, but not knowing how. Clark still had the glasses on, but he'd dropped his voice, and he sat so that he seemed to take up much more space. Jason looked up in interest – he'd been drawing with crayons at his place, bored with the adult conversation.

"What?" Richard asked.

Clark drew his breath, Perry thought, prepared to make the big announcement. Perry found his own heart pounding. Inside was a devilish little flutter of anticipation, wanting to see someone else as flabbergasted as he himself had been. Then Clark twitched, turned his eyes to the wall, and asked, "Are you expecting anyone else tonight?"

Lois looked up. "No," she said.

Clark pulled his glasses farther down his nose and got that unfocused look. His face twisted in alarm.

"Luthor," he said. Clark took another look, through the wall, Perry assumed. "He brought men."

Lois froze.

Jason trembled.

"How do you know that?" Richard asked. Somehow, like Perry, he didn't doubt that Lex Luthor really was in the driveway. Clark's voice carried conviction.

Clark and Lois looked at each other.

"Jason," they said simultaneously, alarmed.

"Get him safe," Lois said, half rising out of her chair.

Clark nodded and got up from his chair.

"Lex Luthor is locked up in prison," Richard said, with the air of one who repeated a learned lesson.

"He must have gotten out," Lois replied cynically.

"He's out," Clark said flatly. "Lex Luthor is trouble. And he's here."

Perry's stomach dropped.

Clark blurred. When the blurring stopped, Superman stood at the dining room table. He went to Jason and scooped him up. "I'll be back," he said, and vanished.

Richard's mouth hung open.

Perry heard a bang at the front door.

"Richard!" Lois hissed. "Don't say anything." She looked at Perry and Richard, and said, "Gun cabinet." Perry found himself getting up and starting to run.

Perry saw Richard shake his head. If Perry's experiences were any guide, right now the younger man was pushing away what he'd just seen until he could deal with it. Perry had to give Richard credit – when he himself had realized who Clark Kent really was, he'd felt a sudden urgent need to sit down. He wouldn't have been able, as Richard was doing now, to race down a hallway while fumbling in his pocket for keys.

All the way down the hallway, Perry heard Richard mumbling, "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod." Perry would have laughed hearing this if he hadn't heard gunshots at the front door at the same time. But he was stuck in a nightmare – the bad guys coming, no way out….

They raced into the den, trying desperately to outrun the pounding of feet behind them. Richard pulled out his key ring, fumbled a moment, worked the key into the lock of the gun safe. Perry and Lois panted nearby.

A shot rang out. Richard continued fumbling with the safe door. Perry saw it open slightly. He moved to be near. Lois instinctively moved farther away from the men, breaking up the target the three of them presented.

"Stop," a cool voice said. It punctuated its command with another gunshot.

Everyone froze.

Perry turned around to see several heavily armed men lining up in the room. Their guns were pointed at Richard, Lois, and himself. Perry automatically backed up, bumping into the corner of the gun safe. He could feel behind him that the door was open a crack. He angled his body so the opening was obscured as much as possible.

The men – six of them, Perry counted – spread out over the den, keeping a wary eye on their three hostages. A motion at the door drew everyone's attention.

"Well, well, well, Lois, don't you want to say hello?" Lex Luthor said in a ghastly parody of bonhomie.

"Lex," Lois said flatly. "I thought you were in prison."

Lex smiled. He brandished a handgun. To Perry, it looked like a Metropolis Police Department issue weapon. Lex caressed its barrel and said, "Let's just say that I managed to get bail."


	37. Step Twelve, Part Eighteen

Lex smiled. He brandished a handgun. To Perry, it looked like a Metropolis Police Department issue weapon. Lex caressed its barrel and said, "Let's just say that I managed to get bail."

Richard so far had said nothing. Perry shot a glance at him and noticed the other man breathing heavily. Richard had lowered his hands from the gun safe key, and had moved slightly away from the safe. He stood near the end table with the Remington sculpture on it. His face wore a mask of disbelief and shock.

Perry's heart slowed down a bit. Apparently Lex didn't mean to kill them right away.

"Why are you here, Lex?" Lois asked, still in that flat voice.

"Three reasons, Lois," Lex said, still with an air of false jollity. "You made me use up my contingency plan. You're the next contingency." He began to pace, a deliberate stride up and down the den that never impeded the field of fire of his silently waiting henchmen. "Two. You and your partner had the chutzpah to put me in jail. I owe you for that."

"I would have been fine if it weren't for you meddling kids," Richard muttered, and actually giggled. Perry figured the shock was getting to him.

Lex cast him an annoyed look, Lois a surprised one. After a moment, Lex regained his menacing air. "But the real reason I came, my dear, was for that child of yours."

Lois paled.

"Where is your son, anyway?" Lex asked.

Lois, Perry, and Richard said nothing.

Comprehension flashed through Lex's eyes. "Ah, he must be off with your partner, Mr. Kent." He smiled at Lois' flutter of response. "Do you think we weren't listening? They were at the dinner table. Did you send them in a different direction?"

Lois raised her head defiantly and kept her mouth closed.

"It makes no difference," Lex said. He gestured to his henchmen. "Search the house and the grounds. They can't have gotten far."

Five of the henchmen left the room, quickly ranging out of Perry's sight. One remained – he had more than enough firepower to control the room. Perry saw him standing, at loose alertness, ready to shoot at Lex's command. Despite the man's small stature, he seemed impressively fit, and unlike Perry, no sweat beaded his brow.

Lex turned back to his captives. "Yes, young Jason White," Lex said deliberately. "Or, should I say, Jason, who is the son of Superman?"

Richard's eyes widened and he paled as well. Then Perry saw him draw a stone mask over his face. Lois gasped.

Lex turned to Richard. "Ah, Mr. White, I see our Lois hasn't been entirely truthful with you." His voice carried a horrible satisfaction. "Actually, it seems out of the realm of possibility." He lowered his tone. "How could an extraterrestrial actually breed with a member of a different species? What a fantasy!" He stopped pacing, stood in front of Lois with a gloating smile. "But, on the yacht, when your son weakened when the kryptonite was near….and when he threw a piano….well, let's say that after having some time to reflect, I realize that miracles do happen."

Lois still said nothing. Perry noticed her breathing had become harsh and fast.

Lex sauntered around the room, his hostages remaining in a tense stillness. "What, no denials, Ms Lane?" His gaze took in Richard. "Mr. White, I see this is a surprise to you." He looked at Perry. "But not to you. I see that our esteemed editor knows more than he prints."

Perry put on his most impassive poker face. He ignored Richard's incredulous – and hurt – glance.

"What are you going to do?" Lois asked, not able to hide the nervous edge. Perry could see her edging closer to Lex.

"Ah, my third reason for coming here," Lex said. He was in full Evil-Villain Gloat Mode, thought Perry. And why not? He held all the cards. "It seems that if I held your son, you'd be a little more careful about what you investigated and what you wrote."

Lois smiled scornfully. "Like we'd let you take him."

"Oh, I don't imagine you would," Lex said. "That's why I'll have to kill you." He began losing his smooth exterior – apparently Lex Luthor had had a hard day as well. "You've been a thorn in my side long enough, Lois. That's the only way to stop you. And I'll raise young Jason to be a chip off the old block. The Luthor block."

Lois paled again, then rallied.

"_If _Jason is Superman's son," Lois said, in an attempt to get off the "kill Lois and Richard" part of the conversation, "you have to know that Superman would come for him." She smiled. "He'd come for him no matter whose son he was."

"Lois, Lois, Lois!" Lex chided. "We went through this at the boat, remember?" He raised his left hand. A ring with an ostentatious green stone graced his middle finger. "I hope he does come. I've got a little surprise for him. Again."

Lois and Perry looked at the ring with an identical sick fascination. "Kryptonite," Lois muttered, echoing Perry's thoughts.

"Superman isn't the only Boy Scout out there," Lex said, in horrible amusement. "I'm prepared too."

That took the air right out of the conversation. Lois, Richard, and Perry stood motionless, thoughts racing. The soft evening air came through the open windows, and Perry heard a last few chirps of birdsong in the sudden silence.

A shot rang out. Perry flinched.

"They must have them," Lex said, satisfaction in his voice. "I'll look forward to seeing Mr. Kent once again. Before he dies." He pulled out a comlink. "Report."

No answer.

Lex thumbed the link again, and said, "Report." His voice was edgy now.

Silence.

Understanding bloomed in Lex's face, and a calculating look flashed in his eyes. With one smooth motion, he reached for Lois. He put one arm around her body and with the other, held his gun to her head.

"Superman!" Lex cried out. "Superman! Show yourself!" Perry could see Lois trembling. "Or your girlfriend gets her brains blown out all over her nice home."

Nothing.

"I'll count to five," Lex said. Perry knew he wasn't bluffing. "If you're not here by then…." He left the rest to the imagination.

"One!"

Silence.

"Two!"

Nothing.

"Three!"

Richard made an inarticulate grunt of protest. The silent henchman swung his lethal-looking gun up to cover him. Perry remained still, but his hands in back were fumbling, trying to reach through the gun safe door. _"There's a loaded Glock right in the front," _he remembered Clark saying. Was it reachable?

"Four!"

Tension filled the room. Perry saw Lois' muscles tighten.

"Fi—"

"Don't shoot, Luthor." Superman appeared at the doorway. Perry gave a quiet sigh of relief. The fluttering of the cape drew everyone's attention. Even the henchman looked away from Perry and Richard for a moment when Superman blinked into sight. Superman gave Lois a reassuring smile, but Perry could see the worry in it.

_No problem, _thought Perry. He'd seen Clark use super-speed to remove or replace objects before. To Perry, it just looked like things vanished, then reappeared. _Why isn't he using it? Why isn't he saving Lois? _A tendril of worry curled in his gut.

Then Perry noticed two things. The green rock in the ring on Luthor's finger had a slight glow. It was an eerie, virulent, otherworldly glow. It was a glow of hellfire and damnation, of nausea-inducing wrongness.

And the second thing was that Superman was sweating. Perry had never seen Clark sweat. He looked at Clark more closely – Clark still maintained the trademark upright Superman posture, but Perry, knowing him now, could see the effort it took to do so.

His heart sank. He'd heard of kryptonite, but he'd never actually seen its effects. Lois had never printed that Superman had been stabbed with a kryptonite shiv in his last run-in with Lex Luthor, but Perry had heard the stuff that she didn't put into her story. And one of the things not printed was that kryptonite cost Superman his powers. Another was that the continent that Lex Luthor had generated in his evil plan consisted primarily of kryptonite. There was a lot of kryptonite out there, if the bad guys only knew it. Lois and Perry had hoped to keep that fact under wraps.

As if reading Perry's thoughts, Superman gave Richard and Perry an apologetic look. Then he looked back at Lois.

_Uh-oh, _thought Perry. _I think that means that Richard and I are on our own. He's going to concentrate on Lois and Luthor._

Lois looked at Richard, one tiny glance. Perry saw desperation in Richard's eyes. Then Lois' eyes locked on Clark's, and the gaze that passed between them spoke volumes in a microsecond.

Perry felt his hackles rise. Electric tension filled the room. It had been five seconds since Superman appeared. Lex Luthor relaxed his grip on Lois, just slightly, and inhaled – probably to give some sort of ultimatum, thought Perry.

Then everything happened at once.

- With an earthshattering martial arts cry, Lois made some sort of spin move and wriggled out of Luthor's grip –

- and Richard, in one smooth motion, grabbed the bronze statuette of "The Bronco Buster" off the end table, and sidearmed it viciously at the gun-toting henchman –

- and Perry scrambled back, opening the gun cabinet door, frantically searching for the loaded handgun Clark had said was there

- and Lex Luthor automatically fired his stolen MPD-issue .38 Smith & Wesson, missing Lois

- and Superman advanced on Luthor in two large strides, not showing the weakness he must have felt

- and the statuette hit the henchman as he fired, making his shot go wild

- and Perry, in a frenzied scramble, found the Glock, and grabbed it, and turned back to the scene

- and the henchman's bullet hit Lois in the head, and with horror, Perry saw a chunk of scalp and hair lift up, blood spraying out all over

- and Superman saw it too, and leapt on Luthor with a mad growl

- and the henchman got his gun back in line, just as Richard knocked into him, beginning a frantic wrestling match for control of the gun

- and Lois lay on the floor, blood pooling from her head

- and Perry raised the Glock and aimed but couldn't fire for fear of hitting Richard

- and Lex Luthor shoved his kryptonite ring in Superman's face, ignoring Superman's bear hug, and, with his other hand, fired the MPD police weapon six times right into Superman's gut

- and the henchman kicked Richard away, and Richard twisted awkwardly, and the henchman shot Richard and Perry saw Richard's left arm begin to bleed

- and Perry shot the henchman, firing over and over till the Glock's ten-shot magazine was empty, Perry breathing heavily

- and Superman collapsed, into Lex's arms, the two men sagging to the floor together, Superman gushing blood onto the blue spandex, a wave of red creeping up his back, staining the cape, defiling it

- and the henchman collapsed, looking surprised at the bloody froth bubbling up from his lips

- and Richard saw Lois lying motionless, blood pooled at her head, and gave a hoarse cry and grabbed a carved wooden elephant from a table and rushed to Luthor and struck Lex furiously on the head with the sculpture

- and Lex not able to fight back, his body entrapped under that of the collapsing Man of Steel, his head held under Richard's arm

- and Richard shouting and crying and cursing, striking Luthor over and over, blood from Richard's arm mingling with blood from Luthor's scalp

- and Perry seeing that the henchman had stopped breathing

- and Superman and Lois deathly still, the ominous pool of red around Lois' head growing larger and larger

- and Perry looking at his shaking hands, still holding the Glock, and gently setting it down.

He went to Richard, stopped the younger man's pounding. Blood pooled from Lex Luthor's head, the scalp wounds welling up scarlet, nakedly obvious on the hairless skull. Luthor's head was misshapen. Richard had fractured Lex's skull in his mindless attack.

"Richard, stop," Perry said gently. He held Richard's arm, stopped its by-now-rhythmic motions. He saw the madness drain from Richard's eyes.

Richard let Lex Luthor's head drop. He knelt at Luthor's head, only now seeing the unconscious man, covered by Superman's still body. He looked down, and took a deep, sobbing breath.

He stood up and shook off Perry's hand. "Lois," Richard breathed. He ran over to where Lois lay in her eerie stillness. Perry followed.

Lois' eyes were unseeing, her pupils fixed and dilated. Her chest made no rise and fall. Richard cradled her in his arms, ignoring the ghastly wound on the top of her head, the wound where the blood had stopped pumping. Perry felt Lois' neck for a carotid pulse. Nothing.

"Lois…." Richard keened. He paid no attention to his own wound, the blood from his left triceps mingling with the oozing from Lois' head.

Perry pushed away the horrific discovery, unable to admit that Lois was dead. That was something he could not bear. He was an automaton now, running on his clockwork course, mechanically moving.

Perry turned to the silent tableau of Lex and Superman. Bound together in an obscene embrace, the two men lay motionless on the floor. Blood pooled at Lex's head, and on Superman's cape. Perry lifted the blood-stained cape and flinched at the sight of the frighteningly large exit wounds on Superman's back. Perry freed Superman's arm from its grip around Luthor. He used that as leverage, and rolled Superman away from Lex. The body of the Man of Steel flopped bonelessly onto its back.

"Oh, God…" Perry said helplessly at the sight of Superman's wounds. Lex must have loaded the gun with some sort of expanding projectile. The six rounds had shredded Superman's torso, taking the once smooth and invulnerable abdomen, stirring its skin and underlying internal organs into a ghastly porridge. Perry leaned closer – was that a breath?

The green glow of Lex's ring was the brightest that Perry had ever seen. And then, the glow wavered, flickered, and then died. And Superman gave a tiny wheeze, and relaxed into the ultimate motionlessness of death.

Richard hugged Lois to him, crying wordlessly. Blood dripped down his arm to mingle with the pool of blood from her head. Perry could hardly see it. The beautiful sunset had faded into dusky twilight, and darkness filled the room.


	38. Step Twelve, Part Nineteen

Perry stood helplessly by the body of the Man of Steel. He knelt, checked the carotid pulse once again, futilely. Superman's eyes held an unseeing glaze. _What are we going to do now? _thought Perry. He was just coming to grips with the shocking loss.

A tiny glow at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Lois' body had started to shine. Richard noticed it too, and stopped his keening. Perry stood up slowly, keeping an eye on Lois, slumped in Richard's arms.

The glow would not have been seen in ordinary light. But now, with the darkness falling, its subtle light became apparent, at the edge of perception. Richard looked on, his grief-stricken features rearranging themselves into an air of incomprehension.

The glow began at Lois's head, and slowly traveled down her body, growing in intensity as it did so. It blossomed, growing stronger, bathing Richard's face in light. He swallowed nervously, but kept hold of Lois. It coruscated and sparkled, gradually strengthening until it reached some sort of climax. Perry stood, breathless, knowing that _something _was happening. The glow exploded into a bright light that left Perry blinking, his eyes dazzled. Richard's eyes, too, from what Perry could see of his nephew.

And then Perry's world turned upside down. Again.

"Richard?" Lois asked weakly.

Richard looked at Lois. _Astonishment _was too weak a word for the expression on Richard's face, thought Perry. And his own jaw sagged in disbelief.

"Richard?" Lois asked again. She knew she was in her fiance's arms, obviously.

_But you were dead! _Perry gibbered to himself. _I saw you! You weren't moving…_

Lois grew impatient at the lack of response from Richard and Perry and wriggled in Richard's arms. "Richard, let me go…." She caught sight of Superman lying sprawled on the floor, motionless as only the dead could be. She stiffened. "Oh, God, Clark!" she hissed.

She forced her way out of Richard's arms and ran to Superman. Perry stood and watched, too numb to move. Lois ran her hands over Superman's body, ignoring the blood that stained her palms. She leaned over Superman, reaching for him much as Richard had reached for her earlier, and sat next to him. She reached under Superman's shoulders, grunting at the effort, and set his head against her own shoulders, cradling him, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

The room was darker now, the night falling. Perry saw a recurrence of the glow on Lois. But this glow seemed weaker, not as triumphant as the light that had surrounded Lois earlier. And then Perry noticed Lex Luthor's ring. The virulent green glow of the kryptonite had died away earlier, leaving the rock a dull green. Now, as Lois did…_whatever_…the ring took on a small light as well. The green light of the ring clashed with Lois' glow, the two lights not meeting, but obviously antithetical. One seeing them understood instinctively that the two could never mix.

Lois opened her eyes. She caught a glimpse of Lex Luthor's ring with its eerie green nimbus, and she hissed in exasperation. She looked around the room, seeing Richard sitting on the floor, his face a mixture of incredulity, awe, and fear. She looked away from Richard and caught Perry's eye.

"Perry!" she said commandingly.

He could not reply.

"Perry!" she said again.

"What?" Perry managed to croak out.

"Perry, I need you here," Lois said coaxingly. She seemed to realize that Perry – and Richard – were in shock. "That ring is kryptonite, Perry," she said. "You've got to get it away from Clark."

"Uh-huh." Perry didn't move.

"Perry!"

"What?" Perry asked again. It was if he heard Lois through cotton wool. And that wasn't just due to the gunfire.

"Perry," Lois said again, patiently, as if to one who was a little slow, "take the ring off Lex's finger. Take it far away."

Perry shook himself. He pulled his lower jaw up. "OK, I can do that," he said slowly. He bent down by Lex, noticing the man was still breathing shallowly, and that blood still oozed from his scalp lacerations. Perry took a deep breath, not wanting to touch the ring. He screwed up his courage and lifted Lex's hand. He unscrewed the ring from Lex's finger.

"That's good, Perry," Lois said encouragingly. "Now take it away."

"Where?" Perry asked, not quite dully, but finding it hard to think.

Lois cast her gaze around the room quickly. "At that end table way down there," she said. "C'mon, Perry, you can do this."

_I can do this. _The phrase, repeated to himself so many times while he'd fought off the craving, touched the streak of iron down deep in Perry White. He'd faced shocks before. He could do this. He shook his head, and came back to himself.

Nodding briskly, he took the ring down to the other end of the large den. He thought about taking it outside and throwing it in the river….then Lois spoke up.

"Don't leave me, Perry," she almost begged.

"OK, Lois," he said gently. He set the ring down and noticed its glow had died again. He wiped his hand on his trousers as he came back to Lois, not caring that the ring and his trousers had bloodstains now.

"Perry, stay by me," Lois pleaded.

He set one hand on her shoulder. Perry looked at Superman in Lois' arms. The motionlessness struck Perry. He'd seen dead people before, and what always startled him, every time, was the stillness. Live people breathed, quivered, trembled. Their hearts beat. Dead people stayed still. And Superman had that deathly stillness. Perry had seen death enough to know that stillness.

Lois took another deep breath and closed her eyes. Perry saw the glow forming again and forced himself not to take away his hand. Nervous, he looked away and met Richard's eyes. If the other man had been pale before, he was ashen now. Perry could see the dark pools of Richard's eyes in the pallor of his face that floated in the twilight.

The glow flickered and died again.

"Damn!" Lois cursed. She didn't let go of Superman. "Perry," she said.

"Yes?" Perry replied, proud that his voice didn't shake.

"Perry, there's got to be more kryptonite on Lex," Lois said. "It's the only reason I can't – it's keeping me from – "

"You want me to search him?" Perry asked, understanding.

"Yes," Lois said, nodding her head gratefully.

"OK," Perry said, and went back to Lex. This time Perry wasted no time

on checking the villain's vital signs. He flipped open the three-piece suit – _and isn't Luthor supposed to be in prison grays right now – how'd he get his suit back, anyway? – _and checked the interior pockets. He pulled a chunk of kryptonite from the vest pocket, alerted to it by the nauseatingly wrong green glow that flickered through the suit material. Perry went methodically through Lex's clothing, pulling out a shard of kryptonite from almost every pocket. Lex was even wearing a chunk of kryptonite as a pendant. Several of the pieces were shaped to a wickedly keen point and Perry was reminded that Superman had been stabbed with a kryptonite shiv before. Apparently Luthor was prepared to repeat the deed.

Perry gathered up the pieces in Luthor's jacket. All the pieces except one, a large, irregularly-shaped, blunt green crystal – had that otherworldly evil glow to them. A subdued glow. So far Perry hadn't seen any of the pieces fluoresce as much as the ring had when Superman had faced Lex Luthor directly. He stared at the pile of crystals for a moment, thinking.

Lois gave a small cry, and Perry, abashed, recalled himself. It seemed to be a pretty big pile, and Perry wasn't sure if the end table at the end of the room, where the ring was, would be far enough away. Didn't radiation go by the inverse square law or something? He couldn't remember, but it made sense that a larger amount would have farther-reaching effects.

Then it came to him. The gun safe was full of ammunition. _Lead _ammunition. Perry jumped up and swung the safe door open wide. He moved the boxes of ammo around, creating a pocket. He picked up the green crystals, and dumped them onto the shelf, palisading boxes of ammunition to the right of the kryptonite, to the left, on top of the pile, and on the shelf below. He hoped he'd walled off the toxin.

Perry closed the gun safe carefully, and then, after a moment, pulled out the key and put it in his own pocket. _Better safe than sorry, _he thought, and then giggled stupidly at his own pun. He turned back to Lois. _I can do this. She wants me to help her._

Lois had gone ahead on her own. She cradled Superman in her arms, reminding Perry of Michelangelo's sculpture of the _Pieta._ By the time Perry reached her, the glow had arisen, and had spread to cover both her and Superman.

Perry reached down to touch her shoulder, then pulled his hand away. He didn't know what would happen if he touched Lois at this delicate juncture. Instead, he stood and watched, fascinated this time.

Lois' glow wasn't kryptonite green. It wasn't white either. It was some sort of indescribable, beautiful rainbow-like emanation that deep down, _was _Lois Lane. Perry instinctively recognized that. The light he saw could have come from no one else. It was Lois' soul made manifest.

This time he kept from staggering as he saw Superman's wounds close up, the blood disappear from the Man of Steel's skin. Lois sagged, but the light remained. Perry saw the light grow, and put a hand over his eyes right before it exploded into the coruscating brilliance that had happened before.

Lois' glow died out. Perry's eyes, dazzled, could see nothing, not even Richard's face across the room. A minute passed. Two minutes. Perry's eyes recovered, and he began to be able to see in the room again, the fading twilight giving enough light.

And then he heard Superman speak.

"Lois?" Superman said tentatively.

A shiver ran through Perry. Superman had been dead. He'd seen it himself. Then he shrugged. He'd seen the glow twice before, and impossible things had happened each time. He was becoming the Red Queen – believing six impossible things before breakfast.

"Lois?" Superman asked again, a note of urgency in his voice.

Perry walked carefully over to a floor lamp and turned it on. The sudden bright light had everyone blinking - not Richard though, Perry noticed. Richard had passed out, looking very pale, on the floor, eyes closed.

Perry turned to the Man of Steel. Superman had rose to his feet, and in a reversal of what Perry had seen earlier, now Superman held Lois in his arms. She was limp and motionless.

"Superman?" Perry asked, unconsciously deferring to the Suit, calling Clark by his alternate identity's name automatically. Perry began tracing a path to Superman and Lois.

"Freeze!" a harsh voice called. The doors at either end of the room banged open. Perry stopped in his tracks. Two helmeted, goggled figures in body armor pointed very lethal-looking weapons at him. From both sides. Slowly, Perry raised his hands. Tense silence filled the room.


	39. Step Twelve, Part Twenty

"Freeze!" a harsh voice called. The doors at either end of the room banged open. Perry stopped in his tracks. Two helmeted, goggled figures in body armor pointed very lethal-looking weapons at him. From both sides. Slowly, Perry raised his hands. Tense silence filled the room.

Then Superman chuckled. Perry saw that he was squinting, with that unfocused look he got when he used his special vision.

"It's all right, officer," Superman said calmly. "The threat is over. You can put up your weapons." He remained carefully still, Perry noticed. "Although we do need medical care."

The Special Crimes Unit officer swept the room with his gaze, stopping at the sights of Lex's dead henchman, Lex with a pool of blood at his head, and Richard lying unconscious on the floor, blood painting his hands, body, and surroundings. After a moment, the officer nodded his head and lowered his weapon. Perry put down his hands with a sigh of relief.

The officer reached for his com, said some phrases that Perry interpreted as telling the rest of the unit to stand down. Then the officer asked for a medic in a low voice. The policeman checked the dead henchman quickly, and then went to Lex. The smooth helmet face shield gave no clue as to the officer's feelings, as he sat by the unconscious villain. He stared at Lex coldly, making no effort to stanch Lex's bleeding,

"Lieutenant Sawyer!" Superman called out.

A petite figure entered the room. Perry recognized her as Maggie Sawyer, leader of the Special Crimes Unit.

"Glad to see you got Clark Kent's 911 call," Superman. "I knew you'd come through."

The blonde dynamo took off her helmet and shook her head. Her hair was cut short to fit in the helmet. "When he called us and told us that Lex Luthor was here….Looks like you didn't need us, Superman," she said tonelessly. She began walking to Superman.

"Oh, we did," Perry interrupted, surprising even himself.

"Lieutenant," Superman said, in an almost pleading tone, "Ms Lane has been injured." He dropped his head, pointing out Lois' unconscious form in his arms. "I'm going to get her to medical care. Then I'll come back and fill you in." Without waiting for the lieutenant to respond, Superman carried Lois out the door.

Perry heard the "swoosh" he'd come to recognize as Superman taking off. He met Maggie Sawyer's eyes in a moment of recognition. She was as irritated with Superman's quick exits as Perry was. Then she shrugged, and muttered, "At least he said he'd come back." She ran a hand through her closely-cropped hair, looking tired.

"Well, Mr. White," she said, "it's been awhile since you were this involved in a story." Her tone was even, and Perry reminded himself that Maggie Sawyer was a smart cop. Perry would do well to stick very closely to the truth here. The interrogation was coming.

"Likewise, Lieutenant Sawyer," he said, matching her in formality. "You've moved up in the world since I covered the crime beat." Once Perry had gotten sober, and back in the reporting business, he'd spent a lot of time with the cops. The street cops of the MPD, not the suits upstairs. Maggie Sawyer had impressed him then, even when she was a newbie, as a more-than-competent woman. He wasn't surprised to follow her career and see her get the Special Crimes Unit. He also wasn't surprised to see that Sawyer whipped the SCU into shape, to the point where other cities sent observers to try to duplicate her results.

Motion in the periphery of his vision caught his eye, and he turned to see Richard being ministered to by two members of the SCU. No one seemed to be bothering to take care of Luthor.

Perry suddenly felt extremely tired. "You mind if I sit down?" he asked. Not waiting for Sawyer's permission, he collapsed onto an armchair. The relaxation of the tension left him shaking in reaction. After a minute, Maggie Sawyer followed his lead, sitting diagonally from him. She pursed her lips to speak.

Perry beat her to the punch. "How'd Lex Luthor get out, anyway?" he asked. The Pit Bull rose.

Sawyer sighed and looked away. Obviously she'd had a hard day, too. "I don't know all the details, Mr. White," she began.

"Perry," he said. "We've known each other long enough for that." He hoped that Sawyer remembered that he'd always given her a fair shake when he was a reporter. And as editor, he'd insisted on the same behavior from his reporters.

"Perry," she replied. "Well, you can call me Maggie again." She caught Perry's gaze. "What are you going to publish here?" she challenged him.

"As little as possible," Perry said, startled into the truth. "You know me, Maggie. I'm a reporter. The last thing I want to do is to be _in _the news."

"OK," she said. "This is off the record, right?"

Perry nodded.

"Luthor must have had contingency plans in the MPD," she said bitterly. "The details are sketchy, but he obviously had inside help." She chewed her lip.

"Luthor was carrying what looked like a Metropolis Police Department issue weapon," Perry probed, when Sawyer had been silent for a few moments.

She sighed. "I know. He killed a cop on the way out."

Perry inhaled sharply. He didn't think Lex would stoop to that, just for practical reasons.

Maggie Sawyer continued. "We don't know if the dead cop is one that Luthor suborned, or if he just got in the way." Unhappiness filled her face. "We don't know how many moles Luthor had, or who can be trusted. But what this whole thing has proven is that he's got somebody – probably a lot of somebodies - there."

Perry considered her statement, and his face twisted sourly. He had always assumed that Luthor had spies everywhere, but to have it confirmed so blatantly….and now the MPD was going to be roiled, just at the time when they were needed most to keep order after the crystalquake. He nodded slowly.

Mentally, he gave credit to Luthor. Even when Luthor lost, he won. The MPD would be chasing its own tail. Given the fact that a cop had been killed, the inquiry would be intense. The brass _couldn't_ let this go. Internal investigations were the worst kind. Perry spared a minute to consider the fear that your colleague was turned, the Stalinist-like interrogations, the guarded voices, the purges that might be coming…yes, indeed, Luthor had won.

Then his gut roiled at the thought of who at the _Daily Planet _might be Luthor's mole – there had to be one. Lois Lane worked there, and Perry couldn't imagine Lex Luthor not keeping an eye on her. In fact, how had Lex known where they all were? But tonight's actions had gone way beyond just simple spying.

He sat down, his mind whirling. Maggie Sawyer looked at him and nodded, seeming to understand what went through Perry's head. Then she straightened.

"OK, Perry," she said, "can you tell me what happened here?"

He sighed. Too bad he felt so tired. Perry figured he'd better stick closely to the truth. Cops developed a sixth sense when someone was lying. At least Perry knew himself to have an excellent poker face.

"Well," Perry began, "Lois and Richard invited Clark Kent and myself over for dinner tonight, to celebrate their story and Lex Luthor's arrest."

Sawyer's face grimaced.

Perry continued. "During the dinner, we managed to hear Luthor before he and his henchmen got into the house." Reportorial curiosity arose in him. "By the way, what happened to Lex's guys? I counted six of them."

Maggie smiled briefly. "We found five of them trussed up – their own guns were bent around them. They were waiting for us near the driveway."

"Superman," Perry said, smiling too at the image.

"Yeah, I've got to remember to ask him to take those off so we can get those guys in regular handcuffs," Maggie Sawyer said, obviously making a mental note-to-self. "Have you ever tried hacksawing through a bent gun?"

"No," Perry said, starting to chuckle a little.

"Well, I hope you never do," Sawyer said tartly. "It takes forever." She smiled too, just a bit, then said, "Go on."

Perry continued. "We all understood that Jason had to get away, so Clark Kent scooped him up and ran outside." All true so far.

"Why Clark Kent?" Sawyer asked, her eyes locked with his.

_Good question, Perry, _he told himself. _Why Clark, when as far as Maggie knows, Jason's parents were both here? _"Clark was on the same side of the table as Jason," Perry said. "He could get out the fastest." OK, it was lame, but it was true.

Sawyer shrugged.

Perry went on, "Luthor came storming in with his men. By then we'd made it to the den – here," he indicated their surroundings. "Lois and Richard keep a fairly well-stocked gun cabinet, and we were hoping…"

Maggie Sawyer only nodded. If she was thinking about the disparity in armament between a few handguns and rifles locked away in the gun safe versus the knockoff Uzis that Luthor's minions had, she didn't say anything.

"And," Perry said, "Luthor sent his guys out to look for Clark and Jason – he knew they were here somehow?" he made the last phrase a question.

"Surveillance equipment in the car," Sawyer confirmed. "Maybe that's what delayed them long enough for Kent to get away."

"Anyway, Lex sent his men out after Clark and Jason," Perry repeated, "but they didn't come back."

"The men, or Clark and Jason?" Maggie asked.

"Both," Perry said. "With what happened later, I realized that Superman must have taken Clark and Jason to safety, and then disarmed Luthor's men."

Sawyer nodded. "What happened in here?"

Perry swallowed. This was the tough part. "I killed him," he said softly. "I got the gun from the safe and shot him. I couldn't stop shooting." Despite his internal resolve, he found himself trembling. He'd never killed someone before, deliberately.

He knew his lawyer would chide him for speaking so openly. Even though Luthor had invaded the home, and Perry shot in self-defense, the New Troy gun laws were arcane, complex, and in Perry's opinion, more harmful to the law-abiding citizen than the criminal. Metropolitans had been sued before by the very burglars who invaded their homes, or had been brought up on charges by the city or state law departments. Perry's sympathies had always been firmly with the frightened citizen who made a stand and fought back.

So, Perry decided to be open with Sawyer. And it wasn't like he could deny the shooting, anyway. The forensic evidence would clearly establish that Perry's fingerprints were on the gun whose bullets had killed the Luthor henchman.

What surprised Perry was his reaction. He'd thought about his story, and his legal defense, if it should come to that. But he'd never thought about how he was reliving that moment when the man had stood, shocked, blood coming from his chest, a stunned look on his face, just before he crumpled to the ground. The way his eyes had become blank as the life left them…..Perry suspected that he would never forget that moment. He felt soiled, dirty.

Sawyer only shrugged again. Perry spared a moment to wonder how she dealt with it. She saw things like that almost every day. The ordinary police officer wouldn't, but the SCU dealt with high-risk, tense situations. Perry understood now why so many cops turned to alcohol, or ate their gun. What he had done weighed on his spirit.

"Go on," Sawyer said gently.

Perry gathered himself. "The next part is all blurry," he said. "Heck, Maggie, I was here, and it all seems like a dream." Also true.

"That's….fairly common," she replied.

"Well, as best I can remember," Perry said, "Luthor figured out that his men were missing, and he called for Superman and threatened to kill Lois unless Superman came."

Sawyer raised her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

"And it turned into a giant mess," Perry said, "and Lois got shot, and Richard got shot, and I shot the guy, and Luthor shot Superman – "

"What?" Maggie breathed.

"Oh, yeah," Perry said. "Luthor had kryptonite. Superman was vulnerable."

"Kryptonite? It's real?" the lieutenant asked. Then she said, "I guess it must be. I heard that when Superman was in Met Gen, the doctors removed some sort of knife piece from him. I wondered about that."

"Yes, it's real," Perry confirmed heavily. "Luthor had kryptonite set into a ring."

Sawyer glanced at Luthor, then immediately got up and headed over to Luthor's prone body. The villain breathed stertorously.

"Hey!" she cried out sharply. "Hey!"

The gaggle of medics and SCU personnel hovering around Richard gave her their attention.

"You mind telling me why no one's giving this man any medical attention?" the lieutenant asked pointedly.

Perry could see it now. Although Richard was now fitted out with an IV drip and was on a gurney, absolutely none of the SCU people had gone to help Luthor. The man lay on the floor, head bleeding, skull possibly fractured, blood all over his torso (all right, Superman's blood, but they didn't know that), and every single one of the SCU personnel had looked at him, seen that he was still breathing, and then gone to help Richard. _That _told Perry something about how the Metropolis Police Department felt about Lex Luthor.

Abashed looks followed Sawyer's declaration, and two of the crowd around Richard detached themselves from the throng and came over to Luthor. After some murmured consultation, they began doing paramedic-type things. Perry noticed there was still an air of – not leisure, per se, but more of an unhurriedness that contrasted sharply with the crisp actions and steady activity the SCU officers had shown when caring for Perry's nephew.

"Where's this kryptonite ring, Perry?" Maggie Sawyer asked. She'd come back over to where Perry was sitting and asked him quietly.

Perry began to answer, then was distracted as the medics and SCU personnel loaded both Richard and Lex onto gurneys and took them out the door, presumably to ambulances, leaving Perry and Maggie alone in the room.

"Uh, I took it off Luthor's hand and set it over there," he said, gesturing to the other end of the room.

Quickly, Sawyer strode to the end of the room and picked up the ring, still covered in dried blood. She began walking back towards Perry when a deep voice stopped her.

"Lieutenant, please," Superman said.

Perry looked up in surprise – he hadn't heard the characteristic whoosh of flight, nor had the usual wind of a super-speed entrance disturbed the den. Or maybe Perry was just tired. Superman stood at Perry's side, grimacing as Sawyer walked closer. Perry could see the Man of Steel trembling slightly. He caught a glimpse of Superman's cape – blood still stained it.

"Lieutenant, please leave that ring at the other end of the room," Superman repeated. "If you bring it closer, I'll have to leave." His voice was firm.


	40. Step Twelve, Part TwentyOne

"Lieutenant, please leave that ring at the other end of the room," Superman repeated. "If you bring it closer, I'll have to leave." His voice was firm.

Sawyer stood a moment, gazing at the Man of Steel. Perry, fascinated, saw the kryptonite in the ring take on its virulent glow again – so slight, he would have missed it had he not seen it before. Sawyer didn't seem to notice it as she nodded, retreated, and put the ring back down on the end table at the far end of the room. She strode forcefully back to Perry and Superman, determination in her posture.

"Superman," she said. Perry caught her looking at Superman's torso and turned in his seat to see the Man of Steel for himself. Perry breathed in at the sight of the bloodstains and holes in the once-pristine blue spandex. Sawyer continued, "When Perry said that you'd been shot, I didn't believe it."

"Believe it," Superman said quietly, nodding. "I can be vulnerable."

Sawyer raised her eyebrows.

"That's why I'm doing this," Superman said grimly. And before Perry or Maggie could make a protest, he turned his head and stared at the ring. Perry could barely see the ring from where he sat, but he saw the results – the green stone turned black, then exploded, a flash of the nauseating green leaving afterimages in Perry's vision. The metal of the ring, from what Perry could see, retained its circular shape.

"Superman!" Sawyer said, angry. "That ring was evidence! What the hell were you thinking?" She stood facing him, her voice challenging.

Superman stared back, not intimidated by the dynamic officer whose stance told of her fury. "You mean the ring that went into evidence at Lex Luthor's trial five years ago….the ring that he wore when he stabbed me a few months ago….the ring that the Metropolis Police Department assured me _would not_ leave the Evidence Room….the ring that he wore when he shot me and his men shot Richard and Lois?" Perry was surprised at the bitterness in Superman's tone. The hero's face twisted in anger – Perry had never seen Superman without a calm countenance before. It was frightening, really, to see Superman angry.

The lieutenant swallowed whatever it was she had been going to say, and took a deep breath. She turned away from Superman and Perry, breathing heavily, for at least thirty seconds. When she turned back around, her face was controlled.

"All right," she said, flatly, "I'd like your story, then, Superman." Perry could tell that Sawyer, right now, was holding on to her temper by the narrowest of margins. Superman, too, was riled up, as much as Perry had ever seen him. Perry felt a tendril of respect for Sawyer as she stood up to the man who towered over her by at least a foot and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. And that wasn't counting the superpowers.

Superman took a deep breath, too, and Perry saw him push his anger and annoyance down deep, deliberately composing his features. "Very well, Lieutenant," he said, now with his usual calm. "I had been keeping an eye on Lois Lane and Clark Kent since they notified me they were doing a story on Lex Luthor and trying to locate him. I knew how dangerous Luthor was…." Superman went on to tell the tale much as Perry had already.

"So you scooped up Clark Kent and Jason White," Sawyer said, in the tone of one who invited a longer story.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Superman said, nodding. "Clark insisted on making a 911 call before I got them to safety. I assume you got the news then."

Sawyer nodded. "Where did you take them?" she probed.

Superman's face froze in the mask Perry was coming to recognize. "That's not relevant to your investigation, Lieutenant Sawyer," he said.

Sawyer made as if to disagree.

"Look, Lieutenant," Superman said, and the calm was gone from his voice again, "if I tell you, you'll put it in your report. Because you're a good cop."

Despite herself, Maggie Sawyer's lips quirked into the tiniest smile.

"And you know that Lex Luthor has sources in the MPD," Superman continued. "Can you assure me that that information will be kept private?"

_No way, _Perry thought, and from the sucking-a-lemon grimace that twisted her face, Sawyer felt the same.

Superman continued, not giving the lieutenant a chance to protest. "I came back here as soon as I could. I immobilized Luthor's men – "

Perry couldn't help but laugh. Superman glanced quizzically at him.

"Be sure to unbend all those guns you put around them," Perry muttered. "They're hell to hacksaw off."

Sawyer looked annoyed at the interruption, but when both Perry and Superman started laughing - semi-hysterical laughter, to be sure – she smiled too.

And after that, the atmosphere cleared. It was as if they recognized they were all on the same side. The laugh dissipated the anger and tension.

"Do you mind if I sit down, Lieutenant?" Superman asked Sawyer. Perry, staring at him, could see his weariness. Perry hadn't seen Superman look this tired since he'd come back from fighting the rogue Kryptonians.

"Sure, go ahead," Maggie Sawyer said absently.

"Lieutenant," Superman said patiently, "please sit down too."

"What?" she asked.

"I'm not going to sit in the presence of a lady who is standing," Superman said. Perry choked back a tinge of shame as he realized he himself was doing that. But maybe allowances were made for almost getting shot? Perry hoped so.

Maggie Sawyer gave Superman an incredulous look. "I'm not a lady," she said challengingly.

Superman looked back, unyielding. Without a word, Sawyer sat down, her posture still ramrod-straight. Superman waited until the lieutenant was sitting before he pulled up a chair and sat himself. By some trick of the light, the rips and tears in the spandex seemed more obvious when Superman was sitting.

The lieutenant's eyes left Superman's face to take in the ruin of his costume. He followed her gaze.

"When I got here," Superman said, "Lex Luthor and his men were holding Mr. White, his nephew, and Lois Lane hostage." His voice deepened. "Luthor's ring had removed my abilities," at that point, both Sawyer and Perry couldn't help but look over at the remains of the ring. Superman continued, "And Luthor threatened to kill Ms Lane."

The lieutenant said nothing.

"I wasn't able to disarm Luthor and his man as I usually would," Superman said quietly. "He was going to shoot Ms Lane, so I hoped to distract him by charging at him."

"And?" Sawyer breathed.

"He shot me." Beside Superman, Perry nodded emphatically. That was another thing he'd see in his nightmares – Superman's body jerking at the report of each shot, his body falling, Luthor's ring glowing that eerie green.

"That's all I remember," Superman said, "until I regained consciousness, just before you and your team came in."

Perry schooled his face into a blank mask. There was _a lot_ Superman was leaving out – Perry had no doubt that he knew that Lois had healed him, for one. But the less said, the better.

"I saw him go down," Perry offered. "I had heard about kryptonite – " _no lie there, _he thought, "and I figured out that Luthor's ring might be it. So I pulled it off Luthor's finger and took it away from Superman."

Superman shot Perry a grateful look, Sawyer an appraising one.

Perry decided to go on. "When the ring was out of range, Superman started to heal." His voice rang with absolute truth as he said, "Damnedest thing I've ever seen."

Sawyer sighed. "From anybody else, Perry, Superman…."

Perry flashed her a smile.

"But the damnedest things do happen to you," Sawyer finished. Perry wasn't sure if "you" meant himself, Superman, or both of them. The lieutenant sighed again, resignedly.

Superman cocked his head, squinted. "I believe the evidence technicians are here," he said.

"All right," Sawyer said, getting up. Superman copied her action, as did Perry, belatedly. "Perry, we're going to take you to the hospital to get checked out."

"I'm fine!" he couldn't help saying.

"Like I said," Sawyer repeated implacably, "you're going to the hospital to get checked out." She turned to Superman. "And Superman, if you could come to the precinct to make a formal statement…."

"What time do you want me?"

Sawyer barely hesitated before saying, "Eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. And if you can get Clark Kent back from wherever you left him…and I'll need a statement from Ms Lane as well. What hospital did you take her to?"

Superman's reply was cut off by the inrush of several evidence technicians. Their eyes widened in surprise at the Man of Steel, and their muffled conversation stopped abruptly. Perry saw again how people reacted to Superman – grateful, yes, but always just a little stiff, a little wary around him.

Superman gestured to Sawyer. "If you'll come with me, Lieutenant, and bring your handcuffs…I believe I have some men to turn over to your custody." He strode out, giving the evidence technicians a courteous nod as he left. Sawyer gestured to Perry to follow her. Perry noticed that Superman hadn't actually answered Sawyer's question about Lois Lane's whereabouts.

With interest, Perry trailed along after Superman and Maggie Sawyer. Down the drive, lit by the flashing red-and-blues of several MPD squad cars, was a crowd. Several uniformed policeman were stringing yellow "Police Line – Do Not Cross" tape at Lois and Richard's property line, keeping away the curious gawkers. The low rumble of conversation stopped for a moment as the viewers saw Superman, began again in a more frantic and louder pitch.

Perry followed in the lieutenant's wake. He saw five men lined up, sitting hunched on the ground. His eyes widened at the sight of the steel ribbons that had once been guns – the ribbons now wrapped around the men, binding arms to ankles.

Superman bent over the first man, and casually snapped the steel strip. At Sawyer's gesture, a uniformed officer fitted handcuffs onto the man and helped him stand. From there, the man was ushered into a squad car. Superman moved down the line, repeating the process. None of the men talked, none made any attempt at resistance, and none made eye contact with Superman or with any MPD officer.

Superman finished the task, drew the lieutenant aside. "I've got to go, Lieutenant," he told her. "I'll see you tomorrow at eleven at the precinct, and I'll get Clark Kent here for you to talk to."

"All right, Superman," Sawyer said. "Tomorrow at eleven."

Superman nodded, and lifted off, his cape flapping in the mild night breeze. A chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" from the watching crowd followed him. Perry noticed that even the hardened MPD officers viewed the takeoff with carefully disguised awe.

Sawyer conferred with her compatriots, and left Perry alone for a moment. Taking away Lex's minions had necessitated the arrival of several more MPD black-and-whites, and one by one, the flashing police cars left the White property. Sawyer turned back to Perry, opened her mouth to speak.

"Lieutenant!" called a voice. Sawyer turned to see Clark Kent sprinting at her from the shadows.

"Kent," she said as Clark came huffing up.

_Good cover, _thought Perry. No one would ever confuse Superman with a looking-slightly-out-of-shape reporter. Except that the reporter and Superman looked exactly alike. At least they did to Perry.

Perry shook his head slowly as he realized the power of Clark's illusion. Maggie Sawyer had just spoken with him as Superman, gotten in his face, confronted him, interacted with him for fifteen minutes. And, as Clark started a conversation, Sawyer didn't see that he and Superman were the same man. It was downright eerie. Perry suppressed a small chill as he realized how many times he'd done the same thing – treated the two as different men. Now all those flashes of déjà vu made sense.

Clark was gesticulating with his hands, emphasizing his point, whatever it was. Another example of how Clark differentiated his two personas. Superman would not have made gestures – he was always restrained, controlled. Perry wondered, sometimes, even if the glasses didn't hold, if anyone _would_ see the man behind the mask. Clark acted so differently than Superman…..

Perry ambled towards Maggie Sawyer and Clark, gradually hearing their conversation.

" – and Superman took Jason White and myself to safety," Clark was saying.

"Where was that?" Sawyer asked, bluntly. Perry had to chuckle. She'd just asked Superman and he hadn't told. Now she was asking the same guy. And he wouldn't tell her all over again.

"Superman asked me not to say, Maggie," Clark said, an abashed smile on his face. Perry was aware that Clark, in both of his identities, knew the lieutenant well. Superman worked closely with the Special Crimes Unit in apprehending the numerous crazed (and sometimes super-powered) villains that seemed to infest Metropolis and surrounding environs. And Clark Kent interviewed the lieutenant about those events, had developed a friendship with Sawyer, and had even become welcome at the neighborhood tavern that was the unofficial headquarters of the SCU. Perry attributed that to Clark's ironclad journalistic ethics. It took a long time to earn the trust of the Special Crimes Unit personnel, but Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Perry White had done so.

Maggie sighed but conceded the point. "I guess Big Blue is right," she muttered. "I can't promise that information would remain confidential."

Clark was diplomatically silent.

"I want to get your statement," the lieutenant said.

"Not much to tell," Clark said, his face open and disingenuous. "We heard Luthor coming, I grabbed Jason and ran outside, and Superman was there to pick us up and take us to safety." He looked around at the gradually diminishing chaos. He glanced at Perry, Sawyer automatically following his gaze. "Is everyone all right?" Clark said.

"Lois was shot," Perry said, not having to fake the tremble in his voice.

"Lois!" Clark was good, Perry thought, at putting the exact right tone into his words.

"Superman took her for medical care," Sawyer said impatiently. "I trust the big guy to get her to Met Gen right away." She continued. "Richard White was shot too – he just went off to Met Gen in an ambulance."

"Are you all right, Perry?" Clark asked, and Perry had the feeling that this question wasn't just rhetorical, under an assumed façade of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Perry said. It would have been better if the words had come out in the Pit Bull tone. Unfortunately, they came out in what could only be described as a squeak. The excitement was catching up to Perry.

Clark looked concerned, for real now. Sawyer interrupted.

"He's going to the hospital to get checked out." She beckoned to one of the uniformed cops.

"Maggie," Clark asked.

"What?"

"I'll take Perry to the hospital."

"What?" she seemed surprised.

"It makes sense," Clark stated. "I'll drive us there in his car. He doesn't need an ambulance. And Perry's going to need his car after he's all done. He's not going to want to pay the high dollar to get a cab to take him all the way back here." He took a look at the uniformed cop who'd joined them by now. "And you need all your people to handle the crime scene here," his voice lowered, "and get back to the MPD before any more evidence disappears."

Sawyer grimaced as the implication hit her. Someone, or multiple someones, had helped Luthor get out of jail free. Given the nature of the incident, there was no covering up that the SCU was at the Whites' house chasing Luthor. But so far, the fact that Luthor was hurt had not been broadcast.

Perry didn't know the internal politics of the Metropolis Police Department, but he had no doubt that Maggie Sawyer did. She was experienced in negotiating those byzantine pathways. And he suspected that Sawyer would be able to find out many things – if she were to strike while the iron was hot. Give the bad guys enough time, though, and everything would be covered up. Maggie had told Perry once that one of her personal heroes was Robert E. Lee, because the Confederate general had always pressed, never lingered. His alacrity had won him several victories where his opponent, with superior resources, had dawdled.

Clark and Perry waited. Sawyer looked away for a moment, considering. Then she gestured the uniform back to the group of cops milling about.

"OK," she said. Turning to Clark, she said, "Kent, Superman is coming to the precinct to give his statement at eleven. I want you there at ten-thirty. I want you in the waiting room while he's talking with us."

Perry almost laughed out loud. Maggie looked at him and missed the semi-horrified look on Clark's face. Sometimes you'd get tripped up on the most mundane things, Perry thought. He knew Clark would get out of it somehow, but Perry decided to save Clark the effort. "Maggie," he said, "that won't work."

A questioning look from both Clark and Sawyer.

"You get Clark Kent in there first thing in the morning," Perry said. "He's got to get this foolishness over with so he can get out and start working on the story."

"Are you telling me how to run my investigation?" Sawyer said.

"No. I'm telling _my employee_ that he has to put in a full day's work," Perry riposted. "Clark wasn't there anyway, you know that." Behind Sawyer, he saw Clark winking at him. "You can take my statement before you take Superman's." That would give him some time to talk with Clark and work out what Superman should say. Or else, Clark could just listen in on Perry's statement and figure out the best way to present the story as Superman. Perry went on, telling Sawyer, "Now, if you don't mind, Clark and I will head to Met Gen."

"Oh, all right," Sawyer conceded. "You need to deal with Dr. Chandrasekhar in the Emergency Room, Perry. She deals with the SCU. She'll know how to check you out." She turned away. Perry could tell that her mind was halfway somewhere else already – no doubt thinking about the MPD internal investigation to come. She didn't expect anything new from Clark and Perry – she was just a good cop, tying up all the loose ends.


	41. Step Twelve, Part TwentyTwo

Perry set off toward his car. Suddenly he felt tired and cranky, his amusement dying away. He heard Clark mumbling, "'Bye, Maggie," as the taller man sprinted toward him and caught up to him.

"Clark wasn't there anyway?" the tall man teased Perry softly.

"Well, he wasn't," Perry said, shortly. Clark seemed to pick up on Perry's sudden irritation and became silent.

The two men stayed quiet as Clark pulled Perry's car out of the drive, carefully inching past the crowd of curious gawkers that had developed. Perry had hoped that the crowd would disperse after Superman flew away, but it seemed that a Superman sighting in their neighborhood, even with the hero currently absent, just attracted more people. Lois and Richard would be hearing about this from the neighborhood association, for sure.

Once they'd gotten on the main road, Perry looked towards Clark. The other man's face was a shadowed profile illuminated by the lonely lights of this far-flung Metropolis environ.

"Where's Jason?" Perry asked.

"He's with my mother in Smallville," Clark replied. He gave a small smile. "She was happy to take him in."

"Does she know – " Perry asked.

"Yes," Clark said. "I told her. Then I left to come back here." He smiled again, that tiny lifting of the lips. "I think she really wants to talk to me."

"And Lois?" Perry asked.

"She's in Smallville too," Clark said quietly.

"I thought you were taking her to Met Gen."

"No." Clark said it flatly.

"Why?"

"Perry, did you see what she did?" Clark genuinely seemed to want to know the answer. It wasn't a rhetorical question – it was a request for information. "She healed me, didn't she?"

Perry thought back to those moments where Lois had glowed. "You were dead," he whispered. "She was dead too." He swallowed. Some things were just too weird to think about. But he hadn't imagined the stillness, the staring eyes, the lack of a heartbeat.

Clark drove silently for a few miles. Perry waited too, the silence in the car taking on its own space, filling the darkness of the night, spreading like a blanket over their lips.

"There's a big difference between mostly dead and all the way dead," Clark said suddenly. Perry shot him a confused look.

"Didn't you ever see _The Princess Bride_?" Clark asked. "Where you think Westley is dead, and Miracle Max brings him back to life. And Max says that." Silence for a moment. "I think I was only mostly dead."

"I don't think so, Clark," Perry said. "I think you were all the way dead. And she was too." He took a deep breath. "And I think Lois brought both of you back."

Clark sighed. "I don't know, Perry."

"I know what I saw," Perry said stubbornly. If he thought about it too much, it would make him crazy. _Nobody_ could do stuff like that. Perry would almost be afraid again, if he weren't so darned tired.

Clark drove for a few more miles without speaking. This seemed to be a very intermittent conversation.

"Lois did that once before, that I know of," Clark volunteered, out of the blue.

"Hm?" Perry made a questioning noise.

"It was years ago, when the Reeves Dam burst. I think we were talking about it earlier," Clark said. "Cat Grant - or Lois as she was then – got stabbed. Our Lois brought her back."

"You said that before."

"Yeah, but last time I didn't say that Cat was dead." Clark said it flatly. "I just said she was wounded. But she was actually dead."

"Oh."

Silence again for a few more miles. The traffic was sparse tonight and they were sailing through intersections. They seemed to have the stoplights timed their way – they were getting green on almost every light.

Clark said hesitantly, "I didn't want to say that before. It's just too…"

"I know," Perry said.

Silence again.

"When she healed Cat – when she brought her back –" Clark said.

"Yes?"

"Lois was dead afterwards. For eighteen hours." He went on after a pause. "I know I said that she was in a coma. But she was dead."

Perry only nodded. He was becoming immune to surprise.

"For eighteen hours she didn't have a pulse. She didn't breathe. She just lay there, motionless." Clark swallowed. "I'll never forget that time. It was right then I realized how much I loved her."

"You only know the true value of things after they're gone," Perry murmured rhetorically.

"Yes." Silence again. "And she came back. Lois was alive again. I swore I'd do everything in my power to keep her from dying again." Silence. "And I did, until tonight."

Understanding coursed through Perry. "So when you took her away…"

"She looked like she was dead, right." Clark said it flatly. "But I'm pretty sure she'll wake up, given time." He gazed over at Perry and Perry could hear the urgency in his tone. "We have to protect her secret. That's why Lois isn't in a hospital."

Perry thought about it a moment. Then – "Did Jason see you bring in Lois? Does he know?"

"No," Clark said. "I was very careful to bring her in to a room while Jason wasn't looking. The room is locked. I think my mother will keep Jason too busy for him to be snooping."

"He is Lois' kid, you know," Perry said, amused. "He'll snoop." Then Perry sobered. "He shouldn't see his mother dead. Or dead-like."

"I agree," Clark said intently. "I just don't know how long she's going to be out – when she'll come back – "

Perry mentally filled in what Clark wasn't saying. "_If _she'll come back."

"She's never used her ability with me before," Clark said quietly. "Maybe I'm so different I did something to her?"

Silence.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Perry reassured Clark. Inwardly he quailed. Sarcastically, he thought, _Yeah, everyone's fine from being dead. It's just a temporary condition. _

"Yeah, she'll be fine," Clark repeated, his voice weakly hopeful rather than strongly positive.

Silence.

"We probably should get our stories straight," Clark finally said. They were nearing Met Gen, and the traffic here in the city center – or closer to the center, anyway – was predictably worse. Perry figured they'd have at least thirty minutes to rehearse.

"OK, you've heard Clark Kent's story," Clark continued. "Let me hear Perry White's story."

"And I'd like to hear Superman's story," Perry said. "Is it OK to mention that you were shot?"

"I don't think there's any way to cover that up now," Clark said ruefully. Too many people know that kryptonite is out there. Maggie Sawyer knows now, and I don't know if Lex Luthor told all his henchmen tonight. He probably did. And everyone saw all the blood on the Suit, and the holes in it." Clark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm just hoping that we can keep too many people from making the connection between the Smallville meteor rock and kryptonite." He grimaced. "Smallville is the only place in the world where it's common. It's vanishingly rare everywhere else. Luthor had to get his sample by stealing it from a museum."

"If he'd known he could have gone to Smallville and just picked it up off the ground…." Perry said quietly, not liking that thought.

"I'm surprised he didn't remember that," Clark said. "It must be part of the memory wipe."

Perry tensed. "What are you going to do about Jason? And Luthor? I mean, Luthor knowing about Jason?"

Clark drummed his fingers again, but his voice was steady. "I'm going to use Kryptonian technology to protect my family. Lex Luthor can't be allowed to remember that Jason White is Superman's son." He was using the Superman voice now, Perry realized. "Luthor has to forget that."

"Well, from what I saw of Richard beating him on the head after he shot Lois, those glasses may have some competition in the amnesia department," Perry said.

"Richard?" Clark asked quizzically.

"Oh. That's the part you didn't know…" Perry went on to tell the whole sorry story, as the only witness who'd been there for the whole thing and wasn't wounded, unconscious, or dead now.

They talked out their stories. In the end, they decided that it was most important to cover Lois and her meteor ability. Perry had no trouble with that. The thought that Lois could bring back someone from the dead was profoundly disturbing. He'd always thought that ability restricted to divinity. To know that someone you worked with had godlike powers….of course, he'd just gone through _that _realization with Clark. Maybe it was getting old hat to him.

_Nah. It still gives me the willies. _Perry firmly decided to believe that Clark had been only "mostly dead". _That's right, he was only __**mostly dead**__, not all the way dead. And Lois just has an incredible healing ability. _

Of course, though, Lois had healed herself. Perry had actually seen her ghastly head wound. The brain had been exposed, damaged. And then he'd seen Lois alive, well, walking, moving…..and healing Superman. It was a miracle.

Perry gasped when the thought came to him. _This is how she could have a child with Superman. _ When Clark looked curiously at him, he realized he'd said it out loud.

"What?"

"Her meteor power. That's how she could have Jason…." Perry mumbled.

"I've been wondering about that for a long time, too," Clark confessed. "I mean, I'm an _alien." _Perry caught a glimpse of long-held hurt in that statement, just for a moment. Clark covered with a light tone, "I'm the last Kryptonian. I'm not genetically compatible with, um, Earth. Fathering a baby would be impossible." In Clark's voice, Perry heard again the wonder, the excitement that Clark usually concealed at the thought of his son. Clark continued with a poor attempt at jocularity, "I'd have thought she'd have had better luck getting pregnant with homegrown tree pollen than me. At least pollen has Earth DNA."

Perry said quietly, "But she loves you. She heals. Did she know you wanted a child?"

Clark dropped the joking tone. "Yes." He said it quietly, poignantly. "I've always wanted children." His voice wavered. "I never thought I could be a father. And now I am."

"I don't know if she even knew it was possible," Perry said, putting the pieces together. Did Lois feel like this when she made one of her patented leaps? When she took a bag of disparate pieces, and fitted them together into a seamless whole? When clues coalesced into an award-winning story? For once in his life, Perry had an idea of what it felt like to be Lois Lane, to take ethereal wisps and put them together with a rightness that stood firm and tall and solid. It was antithetical to the Pit Bull – he'd always worked step by step, firmly, buttressing every bit, never jumping. But somehow he knew this conclusion was right.

"You were together," Perry mused. "She loved you. You loved her."

"I had given up my powers," Clark whispered. "She didn't know it, but she was in the fullness of her own powers."

"And you two made a son," Perry said quietly. It felt right. He _knew _it was right. The circumstances were one-in-a-million. No, the circumstances were unique. It could never happen again. But it had happened. Superman had a son. The reporter-beast in Perry snuffled, snorted, turned around three times, and settled down to sleep. The nagging sense of incredulity that he'd had ever since he realized that Clark was Superman, and therefore, Jason White was Superman's son, was finally assuaged. Perry understood how such a crazy thing might have happened. It soothed the Pit Bull in him. Now, he knew.


	42. Step Twelve, Part Twentythree

Perry brought his mind back to mundanity. They were approaching Metropolis General Hospital, familiarly known as Met Gen. Clark pulled into the parking structure, punched the button for a time-date parking ticket.

"We're agreed, then, Perry?" Clark asked him. "Lex Luthor invaded the house because he wanted revenge on Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Nothing about Jason except that he would be a good hostage." Clark's face darkened at the memory. "Lois got shot, but she only got winged. She only had a scalp wound, it'll probably heal in a few days." Clark glanced at Perry, and Perry was almost relieved to see that Clark had some of the same uneasiness regarding Lois' powers that Perry himself had. "Richard got shot, and he injured Lex Luthor, and Luthor's henchman was shot fatally."

Perry took over the recitation. "Superman took Clark and Jason somewhere, I don't know where," Perry said, continuing their rehearsal. "And he came back too late to keep Richard and Lois from being shot." Clark's lips tightened at this but he said nothing.

Perry continued, "And he took Lois for medical care. I assumed he was taking her to Met Gen, but he never actually said that. If the police want to know where Lois is now, they'll have to ask Superman."

Clark looked back at the road and said flatly, "And Clark Kent wasn't there for any of the shooting."

"And I escaped injury by the grace of God and because Luthor was more interested in other targets," Perry finished.

"That's our story and we're sticking to it!" Clark said. The two men looked at each other and grinned conspiratorially.

"The only thing is, does it explain all the blood?" Clark said musingly as he maneuvered the car through the seemingly endless ramps of the Met Gen parking structure.

"Let's see," Perry muttered, getting it straight in his own head, "Lois – scalp wound, bleeds a lot." He looked at Clark once again, and he knew they were both visualizing Lois as the bullet hit her straight on in the head, killing her. _No, Perry. It didn't kill her. She was only __**mostly dead**__. Repeat that till you've got that straight. _"Richard – he got in the crossfire, he got shot in the arm. He was bleeding a lot too."

"Actually, I've got to go up and see him," Clark said. "We have a lot to talk about."

_Yeah, I'll bet. _Perry just let Clark's comment lie there without response.

"And Richard was covered with Lex's blood from beating him on the head," Perry offered.

Clark frowned. "The only thing….I know I bled a lot all over Lex Luthor."

Perry swallowed again at the remembrance of Superman, holding Luthor in a limp embrace, his dead body…._his __**mostly dead**__ body…_pinning the villain down as Richard attacked Luthor. Yes, indeed, Superman had bled copiously.

"We can say it's Richard's blood," Perry offered. "Richard did bleed on Lex, you know. Of course, Sawyer will probably have DNA testing done…maybe she won't make a point of it if Superman asks her specially…" Perry turned to Clark, who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Your point?" Perry asked, already half knowing the answer.

Clark seemed uncomfortable. "I don't know how to say this….Perry, I don't like my blood being out there. In fact, I don't like _any_ part of me out there where people can get their hands on it."

"Not usually a problem, is it?" Perry asked sardonically. Then he castigated himself. This was no time for sarcastic remarks. They'd both had a very hard day.

"Well, no," Clark asked, not responding to the sarcasm. "When I was seventeen, though, Lionel Luthor got hold of a vial of my blood. He didn't know it was mine."

"How in the hell – " Perry stopped. This sounded like a long story, one that they just didn't have the time to get into right now.

"Well, it was another bizarre set of circumstances," Clark said apologetically.

"I repeat," Perry said, almost laughing out loud. The craziest things happened to Clark. It was like he was some sort of weirdness magnet. "Are there any other circumstances around you?"

"Not really, no," Clark said, smiling now, sharing in the joke with Perry. He turned serious. "But at that time, I found that my blood had, um, some pretty, um, unusual effects on people…."

"_Unusual_ effects?" Perry asked, the Pit Bull roaring out of sleep.

"OK, it healed the terminally ill," Clark said, with the air of one who would prefer to not talk about it at all.

_"What?"_

"Fluky set of circumstances, never going to happen again, the effect didn't last, nobody would have any reason to suspect," Clark almost gabbled.

Perry was aware that he was gaping like a fool again. After a moment, he shut his jaw. He should be getting used to this sort of thing.

After a minute, Clark said, more soberly, "And it goes back to the whole primitive magic and voodoo thing. You know, if you've got someone's blood, you've got a handle on the whole person."

Perry could see the truth in _that._ The ancient thaumaturgic laws of sympathy and contagion. Were they really only superstition? Or were they truth?

Clark shrugged, continued. "So I _really_ don't like having my blood out there. My blood is on Lex's clothing, which is now in the custody of the MPD, if I know Maggie Sawyer," he said seriously. "And you've just seen how effective the Metropolis Police evidence sequestration is." A tinge of bitterness at the reminder of Luthor's kryptonite ring.

A thought came to Perry. "I don't know if you have to worry, Clark," he said slowly.

"What?" Clark had slowed the car, unconsciously, and they were barely creeping on the parking structure ramps.

"When I pulled you off Luthor," Perry began, once again seeing the massive wounds disfiguring Superman's torso, "you had bled all over Luthor. I mean, his jacket, his vest, even his shirt – they were soaked. In your blood."

Clark looked at Perry intently.

Perry continued. "And Lois was hanging on to you, and she told me to get the ring off Luthor."

Clark nodded. He'd heard this before when they were rehearsing their story.

"Anyway, I got your blood on my hands while I was doing all this stuff with Luthor," Perry went on. "And it tingled." He looked at Clark accusingly. "Your blood felt funny."

"Sorry," Clark mumbled. "Can't help it."

"And when I got the ring off Luthor, and I was holding it up and looking at it, then your blood, on my hands, it _bubbled._ It felt warm. It was like your blood was boiling when it got near the kryptonite."

"That's what happens, all right," Clark said grimly.

"Oh, no," Perry said. Realization struck him. "You mean when you're exposed to kryptonite…?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes. My blood literally boils," Clark said flatly.

"That's, uh, gotta hurt," Perry said lamely.

"You might say so," Clark said with a tight smile. He sighed. "I asked the Artificial Intelligence in the Fortress. It speculated that, um, you know how I absorb energy from Earth's yellow sun?"

"Yep. Lois mentioned that in her first interview with you," Perry said.

"It's the basis of my superpowers," Clark said. "I store that energy, and I can transform the potential energy into kinetic energy – like flying, or super-speeding, or strength. Or it's exuded as my invulnerability aura, or heat vision, or whatever. It all depends on the photoelectric effect and quantum physics – you know, certain wavelengths are absorbed and the electrons can jump to a higher orbit in a quantized manner - "

"Um, I left my quantum physics textbook in my pajamas, Clark, and we need to park the car…"

"Uh, yes. Well, the AI thinks that when I'm exposed to kryptonite, all that stored energy comes out in an uncontrolled release." Clark twisted his features in a parody of a smile. "So my blood boils."

"Oh." Perry took a deep breath. He couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, what blood boiling felt like from the inside. "Well, anyway, to make a long story short – or to make a long story endless, whichever you prefer – "

"Now _you _get to the point, Perry," Clark said teasingly.

"I took a whole lot of kryptonite off Luthor," Perry said. "By the way, Clark, it's all stored in Lois and Richard's gun safe. I put some boxes of lead ammo around it."

"I'll have to have Lois get it out of there," Clark said, his eyes looking off in the distance.

"But, Clark," Perry said, drawing the younger man's attention back to him, "after I saw that kryptonite made your blood boil, and by the way, that's very disturbing, I noticed the spots on Luthor's clothes where the blood had boiled and it looked different. That's how I found where he was carrying all the kryptonite bits he was carrying."

"And?" Clark prompted, seeing that Perry had more to say.

"And I didn't feel right about leaving the blood on Luthor all patchy and different colors, so I moved the kryptonite around enough to make all of the blood boil," Perry said. "I didn't need to do much, it was almost all exposed anyway. I don't know why I did it. It just seemed the thing to do."

Clark gave a triumphant whoop, surprising Perry. "Perry, that's the best thing you could have done." He lowered his voice. "I don't have to worry about it now. The blood's denatured, it's ruined, it can't be used against me anymore." He smiled at Perry. "DNA testing won't work either. Good job."

"Even though I didn't know what I was doing?" Perry asked.

"Perry, even when you don't know what you're doing, you're ten times more competent than most people."

Perry couldn't help but chuckle. "Not quite, but I'll take the compliment."


	43. Step Twelve, Part TwentyFour

Further conversation was cut off by another car pulling out of a parking space ahead of them. Clark deftly maneuvered Perry's sedan into the spot. Before they exited the car, he passed Perry the parking date-time ticket.

They walked companionably to the hospital itself, ending up at the Urgent Care department. The hospital had that usual smell, not quite disinfectant-y, but still "infection control" in the background. Muffled announcements came over a public address system at intervals. There didn't seem to be many visitors this time of night – after all, it was past midnight.

They stopped at the check-in desk, and Clark asked for Richard White's room number. The clerk punched some computer keys and told him, "Ninth floor, North Tower. Room 9538." Then, as Maggie Sawyer had directed, Perry and Clark asked for Dr. Chandrasekhar. After filling out some forms, they were directed into a small exam room.

"You want me to stay?" Clark asked.

"Nah, I'm sure you've got things to do, Clark," Perry said. "I don't really need to be here, you know."

"You doing OK, Perry?" Clark asked, subtle concern in his voice.

"I feel fine physically," Perry said. "Mentally? I still keep reliving the whole episode."

Clark shrugged, and weariness lay over his features for a moment. "I know what you mean," he said.

"You do?" Perry asked. "Oh, yeah. Of course you do." He remembered how Superman had just assisted with the China earthquake, the mud-stained bodies, the devastation. If anyone saw suffering and trauma, it was Superman. Curious, Perry asked, "What do you do about it?"

Clark sighed. "I write it up as a Superman news story," he said quietly. "I try to campaign for whatever it is that will stop it from happening in the future." He perked up. "Now I can talk to Lois and you about it."

"Clark, hey, I'm no psychologist…." Perry warned.

"Perry, that doesn't matter. Just to have someone to talk to…..it's a great gift."

Awkward silence fell. A lab tech bustled in. "Mr. White?"

"Yes."

"Dr. Chandrasekhar will be in shortly. She asked me to draw some blood and get an EKG." The tech was already breaking open a skin-disinfectant scrub and screwing a Vacutainer needle into its holder.

"Well, Perry, I'd better be on my way," Clark said. "I'll see you tomorrow at the _Planet._" He smiled at Perry's wave and nod, and exited.

The lab tech made short work of Perry's blood draw, filling up several tubes with dispatch. Perry was glad of the tech's expertise – he'd hardly felt the poke of the needle. Not like certain ham-handed members of the police department of his past days, who drew samples for blood alcohol levels like they were digging for gold with the needle. A dull needle.

The tech bustled out, and after a few moments, another teal-clad man popped in. He introduced himself as the EKG tech, and he had Perry's electrocardiogram taken in only a few minutes.

"How am I doing?" Perry asked, as the tech removed the leads.

"Your doctor will have to tell you that," the tech said. But his smile, and the rapidity of the EKG, led Perry to believe that there was nothing remarkable on the graph.

"You were pretty fast in getting here," Perry said, making conversation. He'd learned long ago as a reporter – if you wanted to get the story at the top, make friends on the bottom. He still had sources in Met Gen in Dietary, Housekeeping, and other departments – the people that no one "saw". Or rather, they were looked at, but they were not seen.

"It's a slow night," the tech said, his teeth gleaming in his dark face. "Dr. Chandrasekhar should be here pretty soon."

As if the gods were just waiting for someone to say something like that, the public address system came to life.

"All attending doctors to the E.R. All attending doctors to the E.R. Multiple gunshot wound victims."

The EKG tech looked out at the now-bustling corridor. "Or maybe she'll be a little bit late." He gave Perry a reassuring grin. "They're not going to need this room. You just stay right here." He bundled up his machines and headed briskly to the main E.R.

Perry sighed. This didn't bode well. If he hadn't promised Sawyer he'd get himself checked out, he'd check himself out. Out of the hospital. But he'd promised.

So he paced around the small room, reading the posters on _Performing the Heimlich Maneuver_, _The Warning Signs of Heart Attack and Stroke_, and _Signs of Sexually Transmitted Diseases And How To Avoid Contracting An STD_. He wished he'd brought something to read. After a while, he sat back on the exam table.

The muffled flurry of activity down the hall hadn't gotten any quieter, and he figured his doctor would be busy for a few more hours. With quick decision, he got up and flipped down the light switch, darkening the room, with illumination provided only by the hall lights coming through the partially open door. Perry laid down on the exam table, pulling out the extender for his longer legs. The events of the day ran through his head, over and over, but gradually, Perry's breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep.

The harsh light woke him. A petite Indian woman in a white doctor-type lab coat had entered the room, followed by a scrub-suited nurse, an LPN by her badge. "Mr. White?" she asked.

Perry fumbled his way into a sitting position. His eyes felt gummy, his mouth dry. "Doctor?" he replied.

"I am Dr. Chandrasekhar," the woman said, confirming his suspicions. "This is Ms. Wilson," she said, indicating the nurse. She shook Perry's hand with a firm grasp. "I understand Lieutenant Sawyer has sent you to us."

"Yes – there was a situation – "

"Do not say anything, Mr. White. Please do not tell me anything until after I have completed the exam and made my medical notes."

Perry must have had a questioning look.

"Lieutenant Sawyer has asked me to follow this protocol so my court testimony will not be tainted in any way."

"Oh. OK, then, Doctor." Perry could see Sawyer asking this. The Lieutenant was a careful woman. Her cases, at least the parts that Sawyer was responsible for, would stand up in court. "Doctor, then, why don't you ask the questions and I'll answer as best I can?"

"That will be fine, Mr. White," Dr. Chandrasekhar said with a hint of amusement. "I will touch you for the exam – is that all right?"

Perry shrugged. "OK."

The exam that followed gave new meaning to the word _thorough. _Perry was glad that the doctor had let him keep his shorts – she'd certainly checked every other square inch of his body. He was _very _grateful she'd skipped the prostate check. At least she'd picked up on his embarrassment, and she and the nurse had left the room during the disrobing. The nurse made little comment, handing things to Dr. Chandrasekhar during the exam, and entering the doctor's spoken notes into a tablet computer.

At the end, Dr. Chandrasekhar indicated to Perry that he could dress himself, and stepped out of the room again. He heard her making some final comments to the nurse as he tied his shoes. She re-entered the room, and said, "Mr. White, I am glad that you are not like the usual person I examine that Lieutenant Sawyer has sent to me."

"Hmm?" Perry asked noncommittally.

"Mr. White, you will be glad to hear that your physical condition is excellent," the doctor said in her careful diction. "When I heard that a Lieutenant Sawyer patient was coming in for exam, I was imagining a much sicker patient."

"She does tend to deal with that," Perry murmured.

"Ah, yes, Mr. White, but you are in very good shape. I will send a copy of your blood tests and EKG to your primary care physician to put into your medical record," the doctor said. "You have the test results and physical examination findings of someone twenty years younger than yourself."

"That's nice," Perry managed to get out through his surprise. "I thought my cholesterol was high?"

"Oh, no. It is very nice," Dr. Chandrasekhar said. "Now, Mr. White, if you will sign this paper allowing us to send the results of today's visit to Lieutenant Sawyer…."

"If I don't?" Perry asked jokingly.

"Then she will have to get a court order and she will be angry," Dr. Chandrasekhar said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I certainly don't want Maggie Sawyer mad at me," Perry said, scrawling his name on the release. "Am I OK to go now?"

"Yes, Mr. White," the doctor said. "Have a nice day." Her face had turned at the sound of another public address announcement, and Perry was reminded of the look that Clark got when he heard of some disaster needing Supermanly assistance. It was the same kind of look.

"Bye, doc," Perry said, as Dr. Chandrasekhar left the room and walked briskly down the hall. He stood in the quiet exam room for just a moment, thinking. _You have the test results and physical examination findings of someone twenty years younger than yourself. _

So, Perry thought, healing his broken fingers wasn't all Lois had done for him. He drew in an incredulous breath, shook his head, and left the room.


	44. Step Twelve, Part TwentyFive

_Author's note: Events in this section make reference to the movie, "Superman Returns". _

Perry walked carefully down the dim hallways of the large hospital, feeling refreshed after his nap. Clocks told him the time was 3:36 a.m. Perry made his way to the visitor elevators and punched the "nine" button. With interest, he saw that the North Tower had fifteen floors, but there was no thirteenth floor. The numbers in the elevator went directly from twelve to fourteen. Maybe being on the thirteenth floor had a reverse placebo effect on the patients? Did they get sicker?

The elevator doors hissed open, and Perry found himself on the ninth floor. He passed through some large doors and made his way to the nursing station. No one was there, so Perry continued his even walk down the dimmed hall, following the signs to Room 9538.

He knocked gently at the open door, and heard a quiet "Come in." Perry eased his way in and saw Richard smiling at him from the hospital bed. Richard's eyes were dark pools in the ashen pallor of his face, and he looked ten years older than he had earlier that day.

"You look like hell," Perry blurted out.

"Why don't you say what you really feel?" Richard riposted. Then Richard looked down at himself, attached to IV fluids, a blood transfusion bag, numerous monitoring devices, an IV antibiotic drip, a pain pump, and some other equipment that Perry had no idea was for. He looked up to catch Perry's eye.

"How are you feeling, Richard?" Perry asked, pulling up a chair.

"Not bad," Richard said carefully. "They said that I lost a lot of blood, so they're transfusing me." He made as if to point to the blood bag, but winced as he stretched his bandaged arm. "They got the bullet out, and I'm on the happy drugs." He glanced toward the morphine pump.

Perry reached out to touch Richard's hand. "I'm glad you're still here," he said, heartfelt. He felt a fleeting impression of warmth from the other man's hand before he released it.

"I am too," Richard said. Neither man said more. That was it for the uncle-nephew bonding stuff, thought Perry.

The hospital room was quiet for a moment, and the constant tracing of the ECG graph on Richard's monitor in the dimness made tiny reflections off Perry's glasses. Perry sat back in his chair and relaxed.

"Clark was by earlier," Richard said quietly. Maybe it was the morphine, but Richard was being awfully even-tempered about this.

"Um?" Perry said noncommittally.

For a moment Richard seemed to rise out of his lassitude. "He told me that Lois and Jason were safe," he said.

"That's good," Perry said. The dim stillness of Richard's room, the passivity and pallor that Richard displayed, all combined to create an eerie surreality.

"It's like a dream," Richard said, his voice small.

"Uh-huh," Perry agreed.

"But it's not, is it?" Richard asked quietly. "Everything really happened, didn't it?" He seemed almost beaten, a small figure in the large bed. "I mean, Lex Luthor shot up our house and wanted to kidnap Jason because….because…."

Perry only nodded.

Richard shuddered back into the bed. Quietly he said, "I knew it wasn't a dream, but I was hoping it was." Perry noticed that the younger man was blinking back tears. "Jason…." Richard managed to choke out.

What did you say to a man who thought all along that the child he'd raised was his own son? And then found out it wasn't? Perry only sighed. He let Richard struggle, affording him the respect of not minimizing or diminishing his grief. Perry waited, allowing a decent interval for Richard to compose himself.

At last Richard seemed to have control. They were doing an awful lot of communicating tonight with just glances, Perry thought. Perry took a breath and asked Richard, "What are you going to say to the police?"

Richard's eyes widened. He hadn't thought about that, Perry figured. Perry, of course, had covered the city beat and the crime beat for so long that he knew all the ropes. But Richard had worked International – he'd never been intimately involved with the seedy underbelly of Metropolis. In some ways, Lois was tougher, more worldly than Richard.

"Uh – I never thought – " Richard blurted. Then a pause. "Oh."

"Do you want to hear the official story?" Perry asked him.

Richard shot him a gaze from under lowered eyelids. The younger man seemed even wearier. "Yes."

Perry gave him the tale that Clark and himself had agreed to tell the police. Richard nodded.

"I guess after tonight, Perry," Richard said, "I don't want anyone thinking that any of us have some sort of special connection to Superman." Richard's face hardened as both he and Perry thought about the special connection they _did _have. "I've seen what happens then." He grimaced. "I especially don't want anyone thinking Jason is connected to Superman."

_Even though he is, _Perry completed the thought.

"And nothing about Lois," Richard added, and his eyes locked with Perry's. The editor could see that his nephew was just as disturbed about Lois' abilities as Perry was. Richard made an incautious gesture with his wounded arm and winced. He fumbled for the patient morphine pump and pushed the button.

"Nothing about Lois," Richard mumbled once again. The morphine was kicking in, and Perry could see Richard's eyes growing unfocused. The younger man slid downward in his bed, and pulled the covers over his knees.

"She loves him," Richard said, blurrily. And the pain in his voice, muffled as it was by the loss of blood and the morphine, wrung Perry's heart. Richard loved Lois too, and he knew he was losing her. "She told me she didn't love him, but she still does."

Perry nodded.

"Damn him anyway," Richard said bleakly. "I'd like to hate him, but I can't."

"He did save your life," Perry offered cautiously.

"And I saved his!" Richard shot back, momentarily arousing. "He pulled me out of the ocean, but, by God, I pulled him out too! We're even!" He breathed heavily for a moment.

Perry knew the episode to which Richard referred, and Jason and Lois (and Clark, of course) were the only others who knew. Lois had told him the story, and begged him to keep it quiet. Even before he knew that Clark was Superman, Perry had agreed. Superman had saved Lois, Richard, and Jason from Lex Luthor's sinking yacht, rescuing them from a flooded galley compartment. And later, after Luthor had stabbed Superman with a kryptonite dagger, Richard had flown the seaplane back and looked for Superman until they found him, almost drowned. They'd pulled him from the sea, and Lois had extracted the piece of kryptonite from Superman's side.

Richard went on, musing. And in his nephew's quiet maunderings, in the resignation and despair of his tone, Perry heard what he later realized was the death knell of Lois and Richard's relationship.

"He loves her. She loves him. They work well together," Richard said, mocking Perry's words to him weeks before. "They complement each other. And why not?" The bitterness in Richard's tone shocked Perry. "He's not human. And neither is she."


	45. Step Twelve, Part TwentySix

After that, it was a matter of tying up loose ends. Perry stayed with Richard until the younger man fell back to sleep – a troubled, restless sleep, judging by Richard's mutterings and thrashings.

Then Perry went to the _Daily Planet, _ignoring the curious looks of the night editor. He composed a short piece on the Luthor breakout. Perry managed to put the emphasis on the quick response of the Metropolis Police Department Special Crimes Unit, rather than on the fact that Luthor had escaped from prison after only a few hours in custody. Perry also downplayed the injuries, and made it seem as if Richard and Lex Luthor's henchman had been the only victims of gunplay – definitely not that Superman had been shot. Perry also gave the strong impression that Superman had come too late to prevent the injuries. No sense in denying Superman's presence – everyone in Lois and Richard's neighborhood had seen him, along with most of the SCU. Perry didn't mention kryptonite at all.

Perry ordered the story placed on page 12B, along with other local neighborhood news. If that was too obvious a news manipulation, he didn't care. He wasn't going to lie in the _Daily Planet, _but that didn't mean he had to print everything he knew, either.

Perry waited until the day assistant editor came in, and turned over the _Planet _to him. He went to the police precinct, catching Clark leaving as Perry came in. The two men didn't talk, but Clark gave Perry an encouraging smile and a "thumbs-up" gesture.

Maggie Sawyer took Perry's statement herself. Based on the careful way she phrased her questions, and her hints about answering _only _what was asked, Perry figured that she had some things to be concerned re: investigation into how Lex Luthor got out of MPD custody. Perry stuck to the story that he and Clark had agreed upon, and was relieved to find that Maggie Sawyer seemed to believe him. Although, of course, she was subtle. If she did suspect Perry, he'd never know it until the cuffs were on his wrists.

And after that, Perry went back to his regular job. Afterwards, he remembered that fortnight as a curiously nightmarish time. He'd be immersed in normality, and then _something_ would happen, and bam, he'd be back remembering recent events.

The worst was remembering shooting Lex Luthor's henchman. More than once Perry woke up from his sleep, gasping, heart pounding. He saw the blood blooming on the man's chest, red bubbles frothing at the man's mouth, the life in the man's eyes fade away.

Perry grew short of sleep and irritable. When Clark came to him the next day, Perry only barked, "What?"

"Thought you'd like to know, Perry," Clark said diffidently. Perry noticed the curious glances from the bullpen inhabitants – they all knew that Lois, Clark, Richard, and Perry had been involved in a shootout with Lex Luthor. Perry had done his best to squelch the gossip and rumor but it was too juicy a story not to be talked about. Clark, knowing they were watched, kept to his nerdy reporter persona. Perry found that persona even more irritating than usual today.

Clark continued, "Lois is still the same."

_Still dead, then? _Perry carefully didn't say. He did bark out, "And Jason?"

Clark couldn't help but smile, as he did with every mention of his son. "He's fine."

"Who's taking care of him?" Perry asked rhetorically. He knew very well who.

"My mother," Clark said, confused.

"Then what the hell are you doing here, Clark?" Perry asked him. "Your seventy-year old mother is taking care of a five-year-old? An _active _five-year-old?"

"Well, actually, my mom's pretty active herself," Clark began defending himself.

Perry slammed papers down on his desk, cutting Clark off in mid-flow. "Go take care of your son, Clark." Suddenly a deep weariness overtook him, as he remembered the wasted days with his own children, days that could never be regained. "Check in here once a day and turn in some sort of filler stories so you don't have to use your vacation days." Perry sat down heavily. "Go be with your son."

Clark straightened up and gave Perry a searching glance. He must have seen something in Perry's eyes, for he only said, "OK," and left the office. Clark gazed steadily at all the curious eyes watching his exit from the editorial office, and abashed, most of the bullpen looked away. Clark picked up his coat and walked out, the chatter of conversation slowly returning to normal levels.

Perry turned his attention back to his editorial duties. A vision of Lois lying dead on the floor of the den….._No. _He took deep breaths, calming his racing heart. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to read the papers on his desk, reading them out loud softly to himself when reading silently could not hold his attention.

* * *

That afternoon, Perry visited Richard in the hospital. Richard seemed feverish and incoherent. Perry reached to touch his arm, and Richard cried out. Richard's bedclothes slipped back, and Perry sucked in his breath at the sight of Richard's wounded arm – painful, red, and swollen.

He cornered the charge nurse, and the Pit Bull soon had the story from her. What she had to say wasn't a real surprise to Perry.

"Your nephew?" This seemed to reassure the nurse. "Mr. White has got a wound infection in that arm."

"He's on antibiotics, isn't he?" asked Perry, concerned. Perry hadn't seen a wound looking like that since he was in Vietnam.

"Yes, they put him on a broad spectrum antibiotic while they're waiting for the culture results," the nurse told him. "He's going to be out of it for a bit from all the medication."

Perry nodded his head slowly. "I'll be back tomorrow," he told the nurse.

Perry had another nightmare that night.

* * *

True to his word, Clark checked in every day. The third day, Perry quizzed him.

"What about Jason? Does he know?"

Clark smiled. "He knows I'm…you know," Clark said. "It was kind of hard to hide that from him."

Perry had to smile back. Yeah, seeing Clark turn into Superman in front of you (the change from business suit to superhero Suit happening too fast for the human eye to see), while mindblowing, did make it pretty obvious that they were the same man.

"Actually, Jason knew it when I first came back to the newsroom," Clark said. "He figured it out early."

"What?"

"Yep. I was standing by Lois' desk, and on the TV above there was a picture of Superman, and he made the connection," Clark said. "When I was flying him to Kansas, he wasn't surprised at all."

"I guess kids see the truth," Perry muttered. Then a thought came to him. "Or, if he's your son, is he resistant to…" Perry indicated Clark's glasses.

"Good question, Perry," Clark said. "I really don't know."

"Can Jason keep his mouth shut? He's only five," Perry said, his thoughts automatically progressing from the glasses to the necessity of keeping the secret.

Clark had a comfortable smile again. "Don't worry, Perry," he said. "Yes, he's only five, but – " Clark patted the glasses again, " – I asked him if I could do something to help him keep the secret and Jason said yes. So Jason isn't forgetting anything, but he'll just have a little help in holding his tongue."

"Um, that's good," Perry said. Inwardly he was a little jealous. Perry had had his memory wiped, but five year old kid got special treatment? He assuaged his feelings by asking Clark, "Does he know you're his father?"

Clark sighed. "No." He sat down wearily, his smile extinguished. "I want to tell him, but that's really up to Lois. And I have to run it by Richard, too….but Lois first. I have to talk about it with Lois first."

"Any change?" Perry couldn't help asking.

"No, still lying there like Sleeping Beauty," Clark said.

"You're a prince, give her a kiss then," Perry said, not sure himself if he was joking or not.

"Oh, Perry, I have." Perry turned to Clark to see the other man holding his head in his hands. Clark's voice was muffled. "Every day."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Well, get back to work, then," Perry said.

"Right," Clark said. "I'll check in with you tomorrow."

"Oh, one thing, Clark?" Perry asked, as the tall reporter turned to exit his office.

"Yes?"

Perry looked away, a little abashed. "Richard asked, um, he said that you don't need to come to the hospital every day for an update."

Silence for a moment, then an expression of understanding on Clark's face. "I make him uncomfortable, right?"

Perry paid him the compliment of being direct. "Yes." He hated to say it, because the word wiped the smile off Clark's face, and Clark got that thousand-yard stare and weary expression Perry had seen all too often. "You can update me," Perry said, "and I'll tell him when I visit."

Clark nodded.

* * *

Clark continued to check in daily. He also submitted articles on various topics, but all newsworthy. If Perry hadn't interrogated him and gotten reassurance, he would have been afraid that Clark was still working full-time. But the other man swore that, no, he was spending most of his time in Smallville with Jason, Lois (although Lois remained in her "coma") and Martha Kent. Superman rescues were way down, however.

Perry wondered if Clark was even checking in at his own apartment. Shortly after Perry had teamed up Lois and Clark, but before Lois' Big Revelation, as Perry thought of it, Lois had learned that Clark still didn't have a place to live. Perry had no idea what story Clark had spun to hide that he was still commuting from the Kent Farm in Kansas – that is, when he slept at all.

Lois had used her connections – she "knew guys who knew guys" and had lined Clark up with an excellent apartment at a decent rent, not too far from the _Planet. _Perry was impressed with Lois's contacts, as housing was at a premium after the Luthor-caused crystalquake.

The time away from Metropolis, and contact with his son, seemed to do Clark good. He regained the spring in his step that had been missing ever since he returned from his five-year trip. The worry lines on his face smoothed out. He seemed more content than Perry had ever seen him.

Perry, on the other hand, became more irritable and twitchy, as every day, Clark reported that Lois was still "out of it" – their code phrase that she was still, to all intents and purposes, dead. But Clark swore that all Lois needed was more time, and who was Perry to gainsay him? After his one moment of doubt in Perry's office, Clark had put on a careful attitude of confidence.

Perry realized that he wasn't the only one becoming irritable and twitchy when Lieutenant Sawyer came unannounced to his office one morning. By coincidence (or was it truly coincidental? Perry knew that Maggie Sawyer worked hard, and as the proverb said, luck favored the prepared), Clark was there for his daily report.

"Mr. White. Mr. Kent," Sawyer said quietly.

"Hey, Maggie," Clark said in an ingratiating tone. Perry barely caught the expression of trepidation crossing his face before Clark schooled it back into its customary affable mask. "What's up?"

Sawyer gave them a searching look. Perry kept his poker face. He knew he didn't have to worry about Clark giving away anything.

"Have either of you two seen Superman?" she demanded.

Perry kept himself from glancing at Clark. "Not since that night," he said truthfully. _I've seen Clark Kent, not Superman, _he told himself. It wasn't a lie, really.

"What about you, Kent?" Sawyer asked Clark directly.

Clark shook his head. "No," he said.

Perry looked at him carefully. Clark wasn't a good liar (maybe because he'd sworn not to tell lies in his Superman persona), but obviously Clark knew that the best way to lie to Maggie Sawyer was to keep the words to a minimum. So far the police lieutenant didn't appear to suspect an untruth.

"Damn!" Maggie cursed quietly. "I was hoping you'd seen him, given that you're his press contact and all…"

Perry felt that tingling of wicked amusement he got at times. "Kent isn't his _only _media contact, you know, Lieutenant," he said. "There's Johnson at the _Star, _and Lee at Channel Two, and Swirsky at WABL, and – "

"You know what I mean," Sawyer said sharply. "He deals with the _Daily Planet _the most, and Lane and Kent most of all." She fixed the two of them with her gimlet gaze. "What I want to know is, where is Lois Lane?"

Silence.

Perry said, after a moment, 'He said he was taking Lois for medical care, as I recall." That was cautious enough, and true enough.

"Yes, but _where _did he take her?" Sawyer asked, starting to pace. "I mean, usually Superman is pretty good about telling us where he took the witnesses. But Lane? I haven't heard from him at all about her." She whirled to face Clark. "What do you know, Kent?"

"Not much," Clark said. Perry restrained an inappropriate giggle at the barefaced lie. Clark deftly turned the tables on their questioner. "Have you checked local hospitals, ER's, and the like?"

"Of course."

"She was unconscious, and being chased by Lex Luthor," Clark went on. "Might she have been admitted under a different name?"

Sawyer stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of her nose, looking tired suddenly. "It's a possibility," she said. "We'll go back and check again." She muttered, "Damn aliens, can't be found when you want a witness statement….delay my report…can't close the case…." Perry didn't think Sawyer knew he'd heard her. He glanced at Clark, who had a frozen expression.

"Um," Perry said, a non-specific noise of agreement. Anything to buy time.

"Well, if either of you see Superman, tell him I'd like to speak with him about Lois Lane," Maggie Sawyer said, standing straight, the momentary bit of tiredness now concealed under the tough police façade. _Dear God, _Perry thought, _she has a mask too. Do we all hide behind our masks? _

"Um, yes, lieutenant, if I see him, I'll pass on the word," Clark said earnestly. Perry nodded too.

"You do that," Sawyer said, and strode out of the room, her confident stride and erect posture telling the world that this was a woman not to be messed with.

Clark and Perry looked at one another. Clark shrugged. "What I am going to tell her?" he said rhetorically.

Perry shrugged back.

"I guess I'll just have to wait for Lois to wake up and talk with Sawyer directly," Clark said. "Then she can deny all knowledge of where she was taken. Lois is better at lying than I am."

"That's for darn sure," Perry said. It made _him_ nervous to lie to Maggie Sawyer. Better to have Lois do it. Clark would be hopeless.

"I'd better get back," Clark said. "Jason and I are going to the zoo today." A tiny smile crept across his previously-grave face.

"Well, what are you waiting around here for? Go take your kid to the zoo!" Perry shooed him out, not wanting to dwell on Sawyer. "Check in with me tomorrow." Sincerity filled his tone as Perry concluded, "I hope Lois is better."

"Me too." Clark nodded at Perry and left.


	46. Step Twelve, Part TwentySeven

Three days later, Clark came by at closing time. Actually, the _Planet _never closed, but Perry tended to work during the day and head home about six p.m. Now that he had reconciled with Alice, Perry made an effort to be home on a regular basis and spend time with her.

Clark looked depressed. "Can I talk with you, Perry?"

Perry shot a glance at the younger man. Clark seemed unusually down. "Sure."

"Do you mind heading to one of the conference rooms?" Clark asked.

"No," Perry said slowly. Clark must have wanted more privacy. He did his usual thing, handing over responsibility to the night editor, and followed Clark into one of the small rooms off the main floor."

"Lex Luthor woke from his coma today," Clark said flatly.

_Well, that explains why Clark's parade has just been rained on_, thought Perry. "That's interesting," Perry said slowly. "From what I heard, the doctors didn't think that would happen." He sat down as Clark began pacing nervously, constrained by the small dimensions of the room.

"Yes," Clark said. "But…"

"What?" Perry asked.

"I did it," Clark blurted out.

_"You?" _Perry asked. "Do you have Lois' healing ability, or something?"

Clark looked even more glum. "No."

"Go on," Perry prompted. "And stop pacing, you're making me dizzy watching you."

Clark didn't smile at the acerbic tone that he'd come to know concealed Perry's soft heart. He did settle down into a chair, though.

"OK," Clark said. "OK." He seemed disinclined to start.

"OK?" Perry repeated in an encouraging tone.

"OK. Um, well, I was really afraid of what Luthor would remember," Clark said in a low voice. "And I did something I'm ashamed of."

Perry raised his eyebrows. Clark in both his personas lived the most upright life he'd ever seen. Perry found it hard to conceive of him doing something shameful.

Clark responded to Perry's unspoken question. "I know I said I hated what these glasses do," he took the offending articles off his face and set them quietly on the table, "and, after what happened to Lois, I said I would never use them again."

"Uh-huh," Perry said.

"And then my son is threatened, and all of that goes out the window," Clark said, even more quietly.

Perry could understand where this was going.

"So you went to the hospital to see Lex Luthor," he prompted.

"Yes." Clark seemed to gather himself. "I was able to get past the police guard without detection."

_Of course you were, _Perry thought.

Clark went on. "And I was determined that Lex wouldn't remember anything about Jason, about what he had figured out."

"Go on," Perry said neutrally.

"This is the first time I've actually used the glasses where I've known what I'm doing," Clark explained. "So I went to…to…invade his mind," he choked out.

"And?" Perry asked. This was turning into an interesting, although disturbing, conversation.

"Lex wasn't _there_, if you know what I mean," Clark said. "The guiding spirit, or his soul, or whatever, just wasn't there. I guess all the injuries he had really damaged him."

"OK, that's good, then," Perry said soothingly.

"No!" Clark cried. "Because when I was….in there….it's like his mind knew it, or something, and it started resisting." He gave Perry a look without really seeing the editor. "When I take the memories, the mind fights it. I remember that with you, even though I didn't realize it until now."

Perry thought back to the dark room with all the marbles, where he tried to pick up a marble and the unseen force gently pried it out of his hand and threw it away. Perry nodded his head. He didn't trust himself to speak. He still had resentment over that episode.

"And I was pushing to take away all the knowledge of Jason, and I was pushing, and his mind was fighting back, and it's like the effort of fighting brought Lex back," Clark said dully.

"So," Perry said.

"So, if I'd just left well enough alone, Lex would have never woken up!" Clark said vehemently. "But I had to make sure, even though I knew I was doing something wrong!" The animation left his face. "And I'll pay for it somehow."

"So, your actions in attempting a memory wipe are what brought Lex Luthor out of his coma?" Perry asked incredulously, sitting up straight in his chair. He took refuge in reporter-speak, making a flat statement and asking for confirmation.

"Yes," Clark said bitterly.

Perry leaned back and whistled. "Wow," he said.

Clark only put his head in his hands, looking miserable.

The implications gradually dawned on Perry. He dropped the reporter persona and gently clapped Clark on the back. "Clark, I can understand why you did it," he said. "I would do anything for my kids. Anything. And you're protecting Jason…."

"Superman has to have unbreakable ethics," Clark said, muffled, not looking up.

"Uh-huh," Perry said cautiously.

"The minute he shows his ethics might be negotiable, people will lose trust in him," said Clark, lifting his head from his hands and becoming animated. Obviously he felt strongly about this.

"Well, um, that's true," Perry said. _And a good thing he does have those ethics, _he thought.

"And here I go breaking those rules for my own convenience," Clark said.

"Clark, if you're looking for absolution, only you can give it to yourself," Perry said. He understood more now, of the crisis of spirit that had brought Clark to the one man to whom he could unburden his soul. "But let me run it by you. Yes, Superman does have to have unbreakable ethics. And he does. But Clark Kent is a guy with a family. Maybe not a family that everyone knows about, but he has a kid. A child who needs protecting," Perry continued, his voice soft but at the same time, firm. "And Clark Kent, like any other guy with an ounce of spine, is going to protect his son." He laid his hands flatly on the table. "It's only human."

"But I'm not – " Clark began.

"Don't say it!" Perry retorted. "Clark, you're human in every way that counts." He caught the younger man's gaze and held it, until Clark finally gave a reluctant smile and looked away.

"The important thing is," Perry went on, "did you take care of Luthor's memories of Jason?"

"Yes," Clark admitted.

"All right then," Perry said. "Luthor woke up," he said, inviting comment.

"That's what I'm really concerned about," Clark admitted. "I know he'll come back somehow. You can't keep him down. He's always got some plan brewing."

"Then that's your penance," Perry said briskly.

"Penance?"

"You'll have to keep an eye on Luthor. He would have been safely confined to a hospital bed if you hadn't done…" Perry left Clark to fill in the blank. "Now, because of your actions, he'll be back."

"And I'll have to deal with him. I knew I'd have to pay," Clark whispered.

"Yes, you will, and the way the world works, it'll come at the most inconvenient time. And there'll be a high interest rate on that debt," Perry warned.

Clark shrugged. He gradually straightened, until Perry could see the Man of Steel underneath the ill-fitting business suit, Superman accepting a burden. "I'll pay it when it's due," Clark said.

"OK then," Perry returned. His devilish side came to the fore again, and he took on a teasing tone. "So, Clark, your actions were their own punishment?"

"In more ways than one," Clark said, smiling back just a little. Then he grimaced. "Getting into Lex Luthor's mind was like wading through a sewer."

Somehow Perry wasn't surprised to learn that about Luthor. "And you're not going to do anything like that again?" he asked.

Clark looked at the glasses with a moment of loathing. "No," he said.

"Then go and sin no more, my son," Perry said in mock solemnity.

Clark gave a tiny smile. He swallowed, obviously deciding against saying anything more. With a small nod of his head to Perry, Clark walked out of the room.


	47. Step Twelve, Part TwentyEight

After that, it was just the daily grind. Perry did his editorial job, got an update from Clark every day (now it was almost ten days since the whole episode), checked on Richard every day (who was having complications and was still stuck in a hospital bed), ate his meals, went home to Alice, and regularly woke up at night flashing back to the moment he'd killed a man.

_The loud crack of the gunshot, the smell of burned powder, the sting of the ejected brass hitting him on the cheekbone, the recoil pushing his arms up…._Perry concentrated on these so he wouldn't have to remember the man falling, bleeding, the light in his eyes fading.

It was Friday. Clark came to make his daily report – by now, the questions about Lois had subsided to a questioning look on Perry's part and a dejected shake of the head on Clark's – and made a few comments about the recent stories he'd turned in.

"Perry, I'm going to spend the weekend in Kansas," Clark said. "I'm off, and if you need me you can contact me on my cell phone." His voice turned colorless as he asked, "Is Richard out of the hospital yet?"

"No," Perry said. "It looks like it might be another day or two."

"Does he want to see Jason?" Clark asked. Perry heard the undertone of reluctance, overlaid by the _doing-the-right-thing_ tone that Clark lived his life by. Clark had offered to bring the child to see Richard every day, and every day, Richard had declined. The first few days, Richard was too sick, but after that, the reason given was that Richard didn't want Jason to see him confined to a hospital bed. Perry thought it was bullshit but it wasn't his place to say.

Perry thought that he had noticed Richard distancing himself from Jason and Lois. When Richard talked of Lois, he often referred to their relationship as being in the past. He didn't talk about future plans with the two of them together. Richard had had one afternoon where all he could speak of was Lois, and Perry felt that Richard's reminiscences were in the nature of a wake – memorializing Lois, as if she was dead and gone. And from the way Richard looked, Perry bet his nephew wasn't getting much sleep, either.

Richard said little about Jason. He said that he was grateful to Clark for the latter taking Jason to the Kansas farm, and Perry didn't question Richard further. It would be hard for any man to discover that the son he thought was his, wasn't. And that said son might not be human.

"No," Perry said, recalled to the here-and-now by Clark's patient stare. "Richard doesn't want to see Jason today."

A frown, quickly wiped off Clark's face. He had mentioned once to Perry that so much of the crime he stopped in his Superman persona had its roots in poor or absent parenting. "All right," Clark said. "Call me if you need me. Otherwise I'll see you Monday."

"OK."

The tall reporter left the room. Perry went back to work.

* * *

On Perry's visit to Richard on Saturday, he got good news.

"Perry, they're letting me out of here tomorrow," Richard said. "Giving me the OK."

"That's great!" Perry said, and he meant it. Richard was his only nephew, and it would have left a big hole in the world if Richard had died.

"Can you pick me up tomorrow and take me back to the house?" Richard asked.

"No problem," Perry said. "Just tell me the time and I'll be here."

* * *

Perry pushed open the door of Richard and Lois' house. The "Crime Scene" yellow tape had been removed, and all evidence of the ghastly events had been cleaned up.

_I wonder if that was in the cleaning service's contract, or if they charge extra for bullet holes and fingerprint powder, _Perry thought. He was just glad that someone had taken charge of the cleanup.

The house air smelled musty. Richard stepped in behind Perry and sniffed. "Better get some windows open," he muttered. "It's been two weeks." He went around and suited the action to the words.

"Stay for lunch, Perry?" Richard asked.

"Sure." Perry didn't have anywhere he had to be, and he felt a just a little apprehensive about Richard being alone in the big house.

Richard opened a pantry door, took out a pile of well-thumbed takeout menus, and passed them to Perry. Perry leafed through them, decided on the Middle Eastern feast from Mister Kabob Restaurant. Richard phoned and made the order, telling Perry after he hung up that all the nearby takeout restaurants had his and Lois' credit card information on file.

"Do you mind if I take a shower while we're waiting, Perry?" Richard asked. "I just want to get all this hospital stuff washed away."

"No problem," Perry said.

Richard nodded and headed upstairs. "It might take awhile," he warned Perry.

Perry nodded. He knew the feeling. Washing away the grime, more mental than physical.

Perry ambled back through the house, stopping back at the den where the shooting had occurred. The room looked totally different now in the brisk morning light, very unlike the deep twilight Perry remembered in his flashbacks. There had definitely been a call to the "Blood and Brains Cleanup Agency", because there was no sign of the horrific events that had happened. Perry thought about it a moment, then decided it was probably Clark who had arranged the cleanup – he himself hadn't, Richard was in the hospital, Lois was…um, mostly dead, and Lex Luthor was still in his coma. Or maybe it was Maggie Sawyer. She knew all the best contractors for cleaning up messy suicides, long-dead semi-liquefied corpses, and post-murder debris. They charged a lot extra, she had confided in Perry once. But they were worth it.

A knock at the door startled Perry out of his reverie. It was probably the takeout delivery, he thought. Perry walked to the door, pulling out his wallet to tip the delivery boy. He opened the door to see….Clark, holding bags of food.

"I met the delivery guy in the driveway and paid him for the food," Clark said, with a smile.

"It was already paid for," Perry said automatically. Then his brain caught up with his mouth. "I didn't expect to see _you_," Perry said.

Clark smiled even more widely. "Then the delivery guy got a really good tip," Clark said. "And you really won't be expecting to see…" he came in. Lois walked in behind him.

"Lois!" Perry exclaimed. "Lois!" He reached out, embracing her in a tight hug. He let go and set her back from him. "Are you all right?"

Lois grinned at him and his heart leapt – the joyous grin was pure Lois.

"I'm fine, Chief," she said. "Good as new."

"You sure, honey?" Perry asked, the "honey" just slipping out.

"Perry," Lois said firmly, "I'm all right."

Perry gave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear that."

Clark cleared his throat and jiggled the food bags.

"Clark, why don't you take those into the kitchen?" Lois said, taking control. "Follow me." Clark and Perry followed her into the kitchen, and Clark set the food on the table. The contrast between their last meeting at this table and today could not have been greater. On the one hand, an awkward dinner marked by twilight gunshots and terror. Now, a sunny morning, three people in harmony with each other.

"How did you do it?" Perry asked Clark. No need to ask what "it" was.

"It wasn't just me," Clark admitted.

"What?"

"I kept on thinking about what you said," Clark said. "Sleeping Beauty?" He shot Lois a heated look and she smiled knowingly.

"I thought you said you were kissing her every day," Perry accused.

Lois looked surprised for a moment, then smiled that inner smile again.

"Yeah," Clark replied. "But I finally asked Jason too."

"Huh?"

"Well, he'd been curious about the locked room, especially after my mother started reading him fairy tales. And then Jason looked ahead in the fairy tale book and read "Bluebeard". Then he really got upset."

"Yeah, I can guess," Perry said, remembering the tale.

"So I figured I'd better show him what was going on – I explained things as best I could – told him it was Sleeping Beauty and not Bluebeard - "

"Let me tell it, Clark," Lois said. She turned to Perry. "It was like I was asleep, or something – "

_Or something, _thought Perry.

" – and then I could hear Clark and Jason calling me. And it was like one of those dreams where you have to force yourself to wake up – "

" – and Jason and I both kissed her at the same time, and called her name – " Clark interjected.

" – and I heard them, and woke up," Lois finished simply.

"Oh-kay," Perry said. "Hey, if it works in fairy tales, and in real life, I'm not going to say no." He laughed. "The good thing is, Lois, you're back."

"I'm back," she agreed, satisfaction in her tone.

"And I want you to get back on the beat right away. No, you've got to talk with Sawyer first," Perry said, thinking. "Find out what's going on inside the Metropolis Police Department. What's happening with the internal probe? Clark and I haven't heard much – you're the one with the real good contacts in the MPD."

"Clark's got contacts, too," Lois protested.

"Not like you," Clark said, grinning. It was strange, Perry thought, that Lois' sheer presence could cause them both to grin and laugh and feel like jumping for joy. But it did.

"Maggie Sawyer's going to want to ask you all about that evening," Perry said. "Did Clark give you the official story?"

"Yep," Lois said. "I've talked with him and I know just what to say." A cloud passed over her face. "Perry?"

"Yes?"

"I was just thinking. There's still kryptonite in the gun safe, isn't there? Did the police get into the safe?" Lois asked.

"Yes, and no," Perry replied. "The police didn't open the safe. I hoped they wouldn't – I'd hate to see Richard's grandfather's guns taken into "evidence" at the MPD. Those guns are _very_ collectible – he'd never see them again." He and Clark shared a sardonic look. The amount of evidence "lost" from MPD custody was legendary. Among big cities, only Gotham was worse. Perry went on. "The kryptonite is still in there."

Lois said with determination, "No time like the present. Let's take care of it."

"What do you want to do?" Perry asked.

"Well, we need some lead for a radiation barrier…" Lois mused.

"Leave it to me." With a whoosh, Clark was gone; twenty seconds later, he returned, carrying several grayish bags. "My mom has a bunch of these at the farmhouse."

Perry reached for one of the bags – it was heavier than it looked. "Let me guess – lead bags for protecting film going through airport security?"

"Yes," Clark confirmed. "Of course, no one needs those now – everything's digital. Nobody uses film anymore." He smiled. "It's a good thing my mom stocked up. Pretty soon these will be off the market."

"OK." Perry and Lois took the bags – Perry figured they'd probably only need one, or at most, two, to fit in all the kryptonite that he'd removed from Lex Luthor that night – and headed to the den. Lois rummaged in her purse – still, incredibly, on the go-to shelf by the back door. She'd put it there two weeks earlier, before the ill-fated dinner. She pulled out a key ring, dug deeper into the purse, and pulled out a second key ring, with fewer keys on it.

"All set," she said.

Perry and Lois stood before the gun safe as Lois fumbled with her key ring. Clark had followed them into the den, but stood as far away as possible. Lois inserted the key into the safe lock and opened the door.

As Perry had said, the kryptonite had remained untouched. He noticed, however, that it had a very slight glow. Perry turned back to look at Clark and saw the taller man looking pale.

"Can you feel it from there?" Perry asked.

"A little bit," Clark admitted.

Perry said nothing, just turned back to the safe, and began shoveling the green crystals into the lead-lined bag that Lois held open. The surprising amount of kryptonite did fill one bag, enough so that they could barely close it. Perry checked the remainder – several small fragments, and one large almost-cylindrical crystal. He swept the fragments into the second bag, and reached for the larger crystal.

"Wait a minute, Perry," Lois said. She sealed the bag, and took the larger crystal from Perry's hand. "Is this…" her question trailed off. "Clark!"

Clark called cautiously, "What?"

"Clark, come here!" Lois called.

"Um…" Clark dithered.

"Oh, don't worry, we've got all the kryptonite behind lead," Lois said. "You don't feel it any longer, right?"

Clark advanced slowly, nervous at first, then gradually gaining confidence. "I'm all right," he said, almost disbelievingly. With greater speed, he met Perry and Lois at the safe. His eyes caught sight of the green crystal Lois held.

"That's…." he said, whispering.

"It's what I thought, right, Clark?" Lois asked.

Perry was confused. He thought the crystal was kryptonite. But it wasn't glowing in Clark's presence, it had a healthier look than the nauseating kryptonite green, and – most tellingly - Clark wasn't incapacitated.

"What's this all about?" Perry asked.

"It's the father crystal," Clark said in a hushed tone.

"What's the father crystal?" Perry asked, irritated.

Clark gave him a momentary exasperated look. Then Clark smoothed his face and began talking in a lecture-y tone.

"I told you that I had a Fortress of Solitude up in the Arctic, right, Perry?" he asked.

"You've mentioned it one or two times," Perry said.

"And I mentioned that it was grown via Kryptonian crystal technology, right?" Clark said, obviously going step by step.

"Right," Perry agreed.

"The Fortress was powered by various crystals, and the crystals also contained memories, archives….the library, in other words," Clark explained. "Lex Luthor stole all my removable crystals. That's how he was able to pull off his latest nefarious plan." Clark grimaced. "The last time I went to the Fortress, it was dark. Silent. Lex stole everything."

"Uh-huh," Perry said. Inwardly he sympathized with Clark's obvious pain and regret.

"Lieutenant Sawyer said that they'd captured Lex's accomplice, Kitty Kowalski," Clark went on patiently. "And Sawyer said that Kitty said that she had stolen the crystals from Lex and dumped them onto the kryptonite continent."

"The continent that you lifted into space!" Perry said brightly. Then the implications hit him. "Darn. The crystals aren't destroyed, but you can't get them back, can you?"

"Well, it'd be rather difficult," Clark said with a twisted smile. "But, with this father crystal - " he gestured with the green crystal in his hand, and his smile turned real, " – I can re-grow all the lost crystals and restore the Fortress." His grin was blinding now. "It's like the master backup."

"That's good, right?" Perry asked rhetorically.

"Good? It's great!" Lois answered for Clark, her tone showing that she realized Perry was teasing them. "You can't know what it means to Clark, having the records from Krypton, the galaxy-wide information – "

"Just funnin' you two," Perry said. "I'm glad for you, Clark. One thing?"

"Yes?" Clark said, turning to Perry.

"A little better security next time?" Perry asked.

Clark chuckled. "Yes. When I repair the Fortress, Luthor – or anyone else – isn't getting in without my say-so."

Lois said brightly, "So, Fortress restored, I'm restored, Clark's restored – "

"You're restored?" Perry asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm all better," Lois said. "No more injuries." She looked at Perry solemnly. "And I remember everything."

Perry inhaled sharply. Clark beamed. Perry had never seen him so happy. "Everything?" Perry asked.

"Everything," Lois replied. "I remember back to our high school days, when I met Clark. I remember all the weird things that happened around him. I remember learning about him, you know, and then working with him. I remember us planning Superman, and working out all the details. Everything."

"That's great!" Perry said, and spontaneously swung Lois into another hug.

"Perry, I can restore you, too," Lois said with unwonted seriousness.

Perry gave her a questioning look.

"I really didn't know how much I'd lost until I healed, and it was all back again," Lois explained. "I'm guessing you're the same."

"Clark's been talking with me…" Perry said, trailing off at Clark's abashed look.

"Sorry again," Clark said.

"Perry, let me heal you," Lois said quietly. "You'll get everything back."

Perry considered it. On the one hand – the promised return of his memories, although Perry thought that he had most of the lost ones back anyway. On the other hand, the sheer weirdness of Lois's healing was, well, downright unearthly. On the other hand, it was _Lois. _And they'd been through so much together – he could trust her. And it was important to Lois, Perry thought, that at least one person knew of her metahuman status and didn't flinch away. Clark didn't count – he wasn't human himself. The final straw that tipped the balance was the way he'd felt after Lois had healed him the first time. God help him, he wanted to feel that way again.

"OK," Perry found himself saying.

"Sit right here," Lois said, bustling him to a comfortable couch. She stood behind him and placed her hands on Perry's temples. "Just stay still."

Perry felt the smoothness of her palms, heard her breathing quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the beginnings of the glow he'd seen before. The warmth cascaded over him, and suddenly he was back in the dark room with all the marbles.

_He looked at the tables covered with marbles in their intricate, vastly detailed patterns. At his side, a vast presence – so much more friendly, more benign than the Kryptonian AI who had taken his memory – tchk'd in dismay over the numerous marbles still scattered against the walls of the room, the intricate designs of memory plundered, ravaged, incomplete. _

_Perry sighed – he could see, now, how much of his memory had been suppressed. Some of the patterns had obviously been damaged, but were partially repaired. Perry picked up one of the marbles in a partly damaged pattern…._

_….and he saw Clark, once again, holding an unconscious Lois in his arms and vanishing from the newsroom, something that no human could do._

_Perry picked up another marble…..and he was back in a collapsing building, but now he saw the walls falling on Clark, and Clark standing up, pushing away the building debris as if it were paper._

_The presence in Perry's mind….gathered itself….and suddenly a deep golden light filled the room. Perry's mind whirled. His recollections, the complex patterns, and the isolated-censored memories at the edges of the dark room, began to whirl. Like a hurricane, the marbles spun, the light somehow whipping all of Perry's memories into a cyclonic tumble. Perry staggered._

_And, then, the hurricane stopped. All the patterns lay on their tables once again, all the designs completed, no marbles out of their place, all restored to rightness. The vast presence with Perry laughed, and Perry laughed too, in sheer joy at the sense of __**rightness**__, the sensation of order, of everything being where it should be, mind restored to fullness. _

_The presence slipped away slowly. Before it left, Perry took one last look at the no-longer-dark room of his memory, seeing the intricate chains one last time, marveling at the complexity. And then Perry followed the presence out, away, back to the world. _

Perry opened his eyes, not surprised to find tears. Lois' hands still rested on his head, and she slowly pulled them away. Perry saw a golden glow at her hands, quietly fading away.

"I didn't know what I'd lost, till now," Perry whispered. "It's back."

"The same thing happened to me," Lois replied, just as quietly. Their eyes met, and they relived the feeling of restoration, of healing. "It's all right now."

"Very interesting," came a cutting voice from the doorway. Richard stood there at the threshold, casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his hair damp and slicked back. "Why didn't you tell me before?" His eyes stabbed Lois.


	48. Step Twelve, Part TwentyNine

"Very interesting," came a cutting voice from the doorway. Richard stood there at the threshold, casually dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his hair damp and slicked back. "Why didn't you tell me before?" His eyes stabbed Lois.

"Richard!" she cried, getting to her feet and running to him.

He flinched back.

Lois stopped, cutting off her planned embrace. Perry glanced at Clark, sitting across the table. Clark's eyes fixed on Lois and Richard, intensity in their gaze.

"Richard. You're all right," Lois whispered.

"Physically, anyway," he retorted. The short-sleeved shirt showed the healing bullet wound on Richard's upper left arm. Perry thought, from the way that the arm looked, and from the cautious motions Richard made, that Richard still had a lot of pain from that wound.

Richard swept a gaze over the room, meeting Perry's eyes only briefly, and refusing to meet Clark's. "Why didn't you tell me, Lois?" he asked, very quietly.

"Richard, I….I was going to…." Lois stammered.

"Going to?" Richard inquired sarcastically. "Maybe it would have occurred to you that it would have been nice for me to know that you've been living a lie for the past five years?"

Perry felt the table tremble. His eyes skittered sideways to see that it was Clark who quivered with the force of remaining silent, sitting in his seat. He spared a moment to wonder how things would have played out if Clark had told Richard at that dinner. Lois certainly hadn't been prepared for Clark to have told his secret then – her astonished gaze when Clark had taken on the mannerisms of his other persona had let Perry know that. Maybe there would have been less anger, less trauma, if Clark had been able to explain everything then. Perry was certain that Clark didn't make a habit of telling his biggest secret to everyone without a lot of planning and preparation – but maybe, at the dinner, everyone there, the time had just seemed right? They'd never know now.

On the other hand, given that Lex Luthor had been eavesdropping at that very moment, it was probably a good thing that Clark hadn't told.

"It wasn't a lie!" Lois protested, stung.

"No?" Richard asked acidly. "The boy who I thought was my son – " a bitter and despairing grimace washed over his features, " – isn't really? He's some sort of alien half-breed?"

Clark breathed in sharply.

"And when were you going to tell me _that_?" Richard demanded.

"I was going to tell you after that dinner," Lois said, quietly. Perry saw her straighten and step slightly away from Richard.

"Five years and you had to wait until then?" Richard said tensely.

"I didn't know!" Lois cried out. "Richard, believe me, I didn't know till we were on Lex Luthor's yacht. He reacted to the kryptonite….I didn't know!"

Perry was of two minds regarding his unwilling witnessing of the scene. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to get out and leave the almost-married pair to their knock-down, drag-out fight. On the other, he was afraid to leave – tensions were running high. Would he have to be peacemaker?

And one, maybe two, percent of him was the Pit Bull – the reporter persona who demanded to see everything, know all the secrets. Perry felt a tinge of shame at the stirring of his inner voyeur. Watching this argument was like watching a car wreck in slow motion. He had a shameful, stunned fascination. He couldn't look away.

"Richard…" Lois pleaded. A note of warning had entered her voice.

Clark remained silent, his body tense, his hands grabbing the edge of the table until Perry saw it bend. Clark followed his glance, and the tension unstrung. Clark sheepishly removed his hands from the edge and clasped them together on top of the table.

"You didn't _know?_" Richard asked disbelievingly. He shot one quick look at Clark and turned back to Lois. In a voice intended to wound, Richard sneered, "I think it would be kind of tough to forget something like that. Back when I first met you at the _Planet, _Lois, there was a rumor going around." He smiled nastily. "There was a rumor you'd boffed Superman. I didn't believe it then." The smile left his face. "Guess it was true."

Lois blushed deeply. Then, deliberately, she turned to Clark, and making sure that Richard could see her, gave him a smile. Clark waited a moment, and smiled back. Perry noticed that Clark's eyes didn't smile, though.

"Was it good for you, Lois?" Richard asked vehemently. "Did you have feelings for him?" He studied Lois' face with the familiarity borne of five years cohabitation. Seeing something in the lineaments of her gaze, Richard added, "And you told me you weren't in love with him!"

Clark remained silent, and Perry, glancing at him, thought that doing so was probably one of Clark's hardest trials. But he knew that Clark would let Lois fight her own battle.

"Richard…" Lois said in an ominous tone. She stood very still. "Richard, what I'm telling you is true. For all the time we were together, for all those years, I didn't remember. Superman was gone. Jason was yours. I loved you."

Clark's face was like stone.

"Past tense, Lois?" Richard shot back.

Lois sighed, and some of the still tenseness left her posture. "I still love you, Richard." Some sarcasm returned to her voice. "Despite the way you're acting right now, you're a good man." Her voice softened on the last words.

It seemed to take Richard aback slightly. He sighed too, swallowed whatever angry words he had been going to utter. "I'm trying, trying to be," he finally choked out. Perry thought him on the edge of tears. "What happened, Lois? Why did this all happen? What happened to you?"

Lois moved toward Richard, seeming to want to embrace him. Once again, Richard made a subtle move of withdrawal. Once again, Lois stopped.

"Oh, Richard," Lois said sadly. "You only knew half of Lois Lane." She sighed.

Perry saw Clark – the tall man looked very sad too, at this moment.

"I had forgotten…had lost….so much of my past when I met you…" Lois began. "The Lois Lane you knew….the one you've lived with for the past five years….she isn't the woman I am now."

"Who are you now?" Richard spat, the momentary unbending forgotten. "Some kind of meteor freak?"

Pain crossed Lois' face. "Yes," she said steadily. "Some kind of meteor freak." Perry saw Richard close up his posture, move away slightly. "I was a meteor freak all the time we were living together, but I didn't know it."

"How could you not know it?" Richard demanded. "It's not something you just forget!"

An ironic smile played on Lois' lips. "Actually, it is," she murmured. Time to explain. "I lost my memory of…a lot of things….about that time."

"A likely story," Richard sneered. "Next you'll be telling me that you were kidnapped by aliens and they did a mind probe…." He trailed off as he saw Lois' grin and Clark's intent stare, Richard finally meeting Clark's gaze.

"Got it in one," Lois said merrily.

Amazement fought with comprehension and bitterness on Richard's face. "So you're telling me that Superman….that _Clark_..." Perry could hear the incredulity in Richard's voice, just as it had been in his own at first, at the thought that Superman actually was Clark Kent, "…had something to do with this?"

Lois didn't answer, gazing pointedly at Clark, until the latter stirred. "Yes," Clark said reluctantly, meeting Richard's gaze and this time, holding it. "I took away Lois' memories of certain things," he rumbled. "The memory of…our encounter…her meteor power…." Clark shrugged. "She's telling the truth. She didn't remember."

Richard looked away from Clark, his world in upheaval. He chewed on the thought for a moment, looked at Lois.

"So all the time you were with me, you were some kind of amnesia girl?" he said bitterly.

Lois nodded. With sadness on her face, she said, "It was good, Richard. You taught me how to have a family, how to love. Some of the best years of my life have been in this house," she said, a catch in her voice.

"But…" Richard said, as quietly as Lois had spoken.

"But I have my past back now – all of my past – and I can't stay," Lois said. By now tears ran down her face. "I can't stay. You deserve to be loved by someone who can love you with all her heart. It wouldn't be fair to you. It wouldn't be fair to us."

"You're going with Clark," Richard said slowly, with the air of one whose doomsday scenarios were coming to pass.

"Yes," Lois said, standing straighter and wiping away her tears. "I've loved Clark since we were in middle school together. I loved him when I found out his secret. Even when my memories of it were gone, Richard, I think I loved him underneath. That's why I couldn't give you a marriage date. I just couldn't."

Richard looked devastated. His shoulders slumped. He collapsed unsteadily into a large armchair, looking small against its high back.

"I'm sorry, Richard," Lois said, an awful firmness in her tone. "I do love you. I don't want you to get hurt any more than you have. I'm so sorry for what's happened." Her tears continued; she wiped at her eyes in a gesture of annoyance.

Richard only nodded slowly.

Lois went on. "For what we had, Richard, please. Let's end it cleanly. Please." She pleaded. "I don't know if you can be friends with me after this. But at least let's try to treat each other courteously."

Richard swallowed. He caught Lois' eye and read the finality in her gaze.

Lois pleading, said, "We have to do that. For us. And for Jason."

"Jason…" Richard whispered.

"Jason knows that Clark is…Superman," Lois said, answering Richard's unspoken question. "He doesn't know that Clark is his father."

Richard paled at the bald statement. "I'm not going to give him up," he said resolutely.

Lois and Clark shared a look. "I – we don't expect you to," Lois said stoutly. The tears had stopped. "We can work something out."

Clark stirred slightly. "Richard," Clark said. Richard pulled his head from his hands and looked directly at Clark for just a moment, until his gaze skittered away again. "You raised Jason for five years. You were there for him." Regret filled Clark's voice as he said, "In some ways, you're more his father than I will ever be." In a low voice Perry barely heard, Clark said, "I know what it's like to have a stepfather who loves you."

Richard's eyes darted around the room. Then, with a sigh, he sat back in the large chair, slumping, looking defeated. "Leave," he said.

"What?" Lois replied.

"Please leave, Lois. All of you," Richard said, not looking at any of them. "Just go."

Silence for a moment. "All right," Lois said steadily. She gestured at Perry and Clark and the men arose from the table, headed to the door.

Perry let Lois and Clark move ahead of him. He came up next to Richard in the armchair. "Richard…." Perry said.

"Perry," Richard said in a choked voice, "just go." He said no more. His eyes, though, said something else. Their burning depths almost shouted, _We'll talk later. The two of us, we'll talk. What did you know, Perry, that you didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me? _

Perry nodded and walked out. As he closed the front door, he heard Richard's muffled, choking sobs.

He met Clark and Lois outside the house.

"What are your plans?" Perry asked, deliberately not referring in any way to the awkward scene just past.

Lois and Clark shared another of those glances. Perry swore the two were becoming telepathic.

"I think we'll head back to Smallville and spend some time with Jason," Lois said.

"All right," Perry said. "I'll see you Monday at the _Planet_?" His words were a question, not an expectation.

"I'm back," Lois said. "I'll be there. Chief." She gave a wobbly smile.

"All right," Perry repeated. "Believe me, Lois, there's a whole bunch of stuff to work on. You get right on it when you come in."

"OK." She leaned up and gave Perry the faintest kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for being there, Perry." Lois smiled ruefully. "Although I'm sorry you had to be there, if you know what I mean."

Perry only nodded. Clark returned a grave nod, and Perry walked away from them to his car. He deliberately didn't turn around at the sound of Clark lifting off.

In his car, he sat, considering, for a moment before he turned the key. The train wreck had come, and he'd had a front-row seat. He turned the key, began driving back to the city. His pulse, racing since the confrontation, slowly returned to normal. Perry began wondering what this was going to do to his newsroom. With a sense of inevitability, he decided to stop thinking about it.

_Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. _

As ever, repeating the aphorism calmed Perry. There'd been hard words spoken today, but Perry knew, with the experience of an old reporter, that there was more to come. He'd just have to see how the three members of the triangle worked it all out. Whatever they did, Perry decided, he wasn't going to let them slack in putting out the paper. The _Daily Planet_ had a reputation to uphold, alien love triangle revelation or no.

Perry's final thought, as he pulled onto the highway, was that he regretted leaving the carryout bags on the kitchen table. He'd really had a craving for hummus and baba ghanouj.

* * *

_Author's note: "There's a rumor you'd boffed Superman" - that quote is a plagiarism from, and a direct homage, to, the great __**Sue S.**__ and her fic __**Faustian Bargain**__, found at the "Lois and Clark" fanfiction site. If you are looking for great adult fiction, this is the one. And don't miss the rest of Sue's fics! You'll be rewarded._


	49. Step Twelve, Part Thirty

Richard didn't come to work the next morning. Lois and Clark did, and Lois dealt with the numerous greetings from their co-workers. The word of her "disappearance" had leaked out, despite Perry's best efforts to keep it quiet, and the happy contacts had more than a hint of curiosity behind them.

To everyone, Lois responded with thanks for their concern, and denied all knowledge of where Superman had taken her. She said only that she had fallen unconscious during the episode with Luthor, and that she remembered nothing of her recovery.

As ever, Clark, by her side, was overlooked. Perry saw how he was dismissed by everyone with a "Hey, Clark,", or a "Good to see you today." Once again, Perry was struck by the ease at which the tall man faded himself into the background.

After the obligatory greetings from everyone had finished, Perry called Lois and Clark into his office.

"Good to see you back officially, Lois," he told her, as Clark stood nearby, a hint of possessiveness in his demeanor.

"Good to be back, Chief," she replied, looking around at the controlled chaos of the newsroom and inhaling deeply.

"Lois, I want you to look into the Luthor story at the Metropolis Police Department," Perry said. "Find out how he knew where you were. How he got out of jail. You've got the contacts, put them to work." He caught a glimpse of Clark squirming.

"You all right, Clark?" Perry snapped.

"Fine, Perry," Clark replied sheepishly.

"I'm on my way, Perry," Lois said briskly. "You coming, Clark?"

"Uh, I've got something to talk about with Perry first," Clark said.

Perry and Lois both gave him a questioning gaze. Then Lois, giving him the benefit of the doubt, said, "OK, catch up with me later." She strode from Perry's office briskly.

"What?" Perry asked.

"I know who Luthor's contacts are in the MPD," Clark said very quietly. "I know who his mole here is – you know Joann Evers?"

Perry felt a twinge of dismay as Clark named a longtime administrative assistant. "I never thought she'd….How'd Luthor get his hooks in her?" Perry asked.

"Her husband has a gambling problem…." Clark said quietly.

"How do you know?" Perry asked sharply.

Clark looked away. He seemed reluctant to speak. "I saw it….in Luthor's head….when I was…."

"Doing the amnesia thing again?" Perry asked.

Clark nodded. His eyes skittered away from Perry's again. "I don't know about telling Lois."

Perry considered it. Lois would ask how Clark knew, and Clark would have to admit about his mental mind-rape of Lex Luthor. Perry knew Clark was deeply ashamed of what he had done, but at the same time, Clark had felt it necessary. It was rare for Clark to be faced with these second thoughts; as Superman, Perry knew, Clark had trained himself to always do the right thing. As he'd told Perry once, Superman had to have unbreakable ethics. But Clark….Clark was a different story. Clark could be tempted. Clark could fall. Clark tried to do the right thing always, but he was….only human.

Perry put away his musings at the sight of Clark standing slumped in front of him. Perry cleared his throat. "Tell her," Perry said. "There can't be lies between you now."

"But…" Clark mumbled.

"Clark, it's the truth. She deserves to know your bad parts too," Perry said. Gently he added, "We all have them. It's just that most of us aren't superheroes and the bad parts show up a lot sooner."

Clark flushed. "I'm not really…." He trailed off.

"Tell her the truth, Clark," Perry said again. "You know and I know that any relationship between you has to be based on something. The only foundation strong enough to hold you two is the truth."

Clark nodded. After a moment, he said, "Did I tell you what Lieutenant Sawyer wanted?"

"Lois's story?" Perry asked.

Clark smiled. "Sawyer got Lois' story. Lois reported to the good lieutenant right away, as soon as she got back to Metropolis. I don't know if Sawyer was _happy _with Lois' story, but Lois gave the story and Sawyer listened to it." He lost his smile. "Lieutenant Sawyer asked Superman something else."

"What?" Perry asked curiously.

"She asked Superman if he would sit in on interrogations of police officers who were suspected of being involved with Luthor," Clark explained.

"Why would she want that?" Perry asked, before realizing how Superman could pick up on pulse rate, breath rate increases, subtle tells that a person was lying. "Oh. Is that legal?"

"I'm sure Sawyer would have some reason why it was," Clark said quietly. "She pointed out to Superman how it was in his own best interest to see Lex Luthor's organization rolled up."

"What did Superman tell her?"

Clark stared off into space. "He told her no." He turned back to look at Perry. "It just seemed wrong, somehow."

Perry nodded slowly. "I agree. If I were a lawyer I'd be able to come up with the constitutional reasons why it's wrong," Perry said. "And I'm glad Superman didn't do it."

Clark looked at Perry again and gave a sickly smile. "The real reason – aside from ethics and all that, Perry – was that I already knew who Luthor's contacts were." He'd given up referring to himself in the third person, Perry noted. "And all the time I was listening, I'd be thinking about being in Luthor's head…" Clark looked nauseated. "There's more corruption in the MPD than you think, Perry," he said seriously.

"If you know who they are…." Perry started.

"Why didn't I tell Sawyer?" Clark finished. He shrugged. "How would I explain how I knew it?"

Perry nodded, while mentally kicking himself. Obvious.

"Superman probably should have taken Sawyer up on her offer," Clark mused. "But he couldn't." Then Clark smiled that Clark smile. "But have no fear – Lois Lane is here!" He spoke the words half sarcastically, half reverently. "Between the two of us, we'll figure out a way to let Sawyer know." He looked much more confident.

"So you were going to tell Lois everything anyway," Perry ventured.

"Yes," Clark said. "It's just, you know, sometimes it's hard?"

Perry just began laughing. "Welcome to the world of a serious relationship, Clark," he managed to choke out. "Take it from the man who's been married for over twenty-five years. It doesn't get easier." He sat down at his desk. "Ah, what the hell. Get out there, meet up with Lois, get the bad guys."

Clark seemed transfixed. When Perry mentioned "marriage" that seemed to freeze Clark in his tracks.

"What are you waiting for?" Perry said. "Get going!"

And with his editor's patented growl ringing in his ears, Clark got going.


	50. Step Twelve, Part ThirtyOne

Richard called in that day, but came into work the next. All that fortnight, Perry saw him staring at Lois, at Clark, at the two of them together. It reminded Perry of when he'd first learned Clark's secret, and had spent two days just staring at the Man of Steel. But Richard stared at not just at Clark, but at Lois too.

Richard kept his short conversations with Perry strictly work-related, and didn't talk to Clark at all. In fact, he deliberately seemed to go out of his way to avoid contact with Clark. If Clark looked up to see Richard staring at him, Richard would quickly avert his eyes.

Richard did talk to Lois, though, terse and quiet conversations at intervals throughout that week. All their interactions seemed to end with one or both of them angry.

The newsroom began picking up on the strain, and soon the gossip began to rage. Lois Lane was always a beacon of attention – the multiple award-winning writer was one of those people whose personality stood out. People watched her. They paid attention to her. And now, they saw her relationship with Richard on the rocks, disintegrating in slow motion, in full view of the _Daily Planet _staff room.

Perry stayed out of it.

Jason stayed with Martha Kent in Kansas. Lois and Clark visited him every day. Richard did not.

Lois talked with Lieutenant Sawyer, her statement obviously not answering all of Maggie's questions. Perry could tell that from Sawyer's frustrated body language. (Sawyer had come to the _Planet _to interrogate Lois – Perry figured the change in venue was part of the corruption investigation.) Perry knew for a fact that Sawyer walked out not knowing that Lois and Jason had stayed on the Kent Farm.

Clark did continue to go off at odd intervals, making the "pulling on tie" or "handwave" gestures that Perry and Clark had agreed meant that Clark was going off to do some Superman thing.

Clark didn't talk with Richard. Clark talked with Lois, and the two spent much time out of the newsroom, working on various stories. If Perry noticed a renewed interest for each other in their glances that hadn't been there before, he never saw overt or public display of affection.

The newsroom picked up on the Clark-Lois romance anyway. The gossip got more frenzied.

Lois moved in with Clark.

Lex Luthor regained full awareness, continued to heal. The shifts of police guards at his hospital bed were changed every two days. Perry suspected it was an attempt by Lieutenant Sawyer to limit Lex's opportunity for corruption. Or was it an _expanding _of opportunity for Lex to suborn more officers?

Maggie Sawyer of the Special Crimes Unit worked uneasily with Internal Affairs. Perry suspected that the rot in the Metropolis Police Department had infected the IAD as well, but from talking with Lois, Perry learned that the MPD-IAD was nowhere near as corrupt as their counterparts in Gotham City. And, thanks to Clark and Lois's careful tips, Sawyer's investigation was more successful than it might have been without clandestine "super" assistance. Perry harbored no illusions that the MPD was clean after this; they'd merely pruned back the worst of the encroachment. As long as men were human, bad seeds would remain, ready to blossom at the right conditions.

Perry arranged an early retirement for Joann Evers, Luthor's MPD spy. He hoped that Luthor hadn't had a backup plan, and that if Luthor did, that Clark would have detected it. But he didn't want to ask Clark, didn't want to bring back the memory of Clark's shame.

Perry went home at night and counted his blessings. He was grateful to have Alice, and she was grateful to have him alive. He'd told Alice the (mostly) full story of the events at Richard and Lois' house, and she'd embraced him wordlessly, hanging on to him tightly. He'd embraced her back with equal fervor. And since then, Perry had made an extra effort to be with Alice, to spend time with her.

Perry's nightmares eased.

Richard walked, a brittle air about him, through the newsroom. He often, absently, rubbed his left arm, where he'd been shot.

Internal Affairs made some arrests in the MPD. Perry, querying Clark, found that Sawyer, working with IA, had gotten all of Luthor's known moles. The arrested officers were charged and arraigned.

One of the arrested MPD officers ate his gun.

Lois got the story.

Lex Luthor recovered fully, and was moved back to prison. Perry wondered how much brain damage there really was - Luthor seemed to be unkillable. All Perry could do was hope that the authorities managed to keep him in prison this time. Perry had no doubt that Luthor continued to plot Superman's downfall from his cell.

* * *

The eggshell tension finally broke on Friday. Richard came into Perry's office early that morning. Instead of starting a terse conversation about International, he edged his way closer to Perry.

"I'm invited to Smallville," Richard said in a low voice.

"What?" Perry asked, his mind on the front page. It was a slow news day, and they'd had to hype up Lois and Clark's story on the business-as-usual incompetence in the Metropolis Road Commission into a bigger headline than it deserved.

"I've been asked to come to Smallville," Richard repeated. "To the Kent Farm, to be specific."

"Are you going?" Perry asked, keeping a poker face.

Richard sat down wearily. "Yes," he said.

Perry nodded.

"Yes," Richard repeated. "I can't go on like this. I need to see my son." He laughed bitterly. "My son, and he isn't. My fiancée – and she isn't."

Perry nodded again.

"I've been thinking a lot, Perry," Richard said intently. He looked Perry in the eye. "Will you come with me?"

"What?" Perry asked again.

"Perry, I'm going to Kansas. Clark's mother will be there. Clark will be there. I want someone from my family there. Someone on my side."

"I'm not on anyone's side," Perry warned.

"I know, Perry, you're neutral. But you're fair. Please say you'll come," Richard asked, almost pleading.

What could he do? And, Perry thought wryly, proving that God probably wanted him to go, this was the weekend that Alice was taking off for her five-day cruise with "the girls" – her friends of many years duration. Perry hadn't been looking forward to rattling around in the empty house, anyway.

"All right," Perry acquiesced.

"Thanks," Richard said. "I'll get your ticket."

Perry only sighed. He'd forgotten how much he hated to fly commercial. But flying with Superman probably wasn't an option this time. "When do we leave?" he asked.

"Can you be ready by two p.m.?" Richard asked.

* * *

Richard finally spoke after they'd driven their rental car for thirty miles down the quiet Kansas roads.

"It's weird, you know," he said conversationally.

Perry looked over at him from the passenger seat. "Which?" Perry asked.

Richard quirked a tiny smile in recognition of what Perry had found to be true – when you hung around Superman, the weird factor – the sheer number of improbable happenings – expanded to affect you, too.

"Seeing Clark every day," Richard said. "Knowing he's Superman…and he's there making phone calls and spending time at the keyboard…and nobody realizes it."

Perry shrugged. "It hit me the same way when I found out." He glanced over at Richard. "You're not over it yet, are you?"

Richard swallowed. "I keep on wondering what he's going to do. He can do anything, you know. And we couldn't do anything to stop him…"

"There's always kryptonite," Perry said shortly. Richard was really worried about this, he realized. Didn't he know that Clark was harmless? Well, not specifically harmless, but Clark wouldn't hurt anyone….well, actually, he _had_ invaded people's minds with the express intention of destroying or suppressing their memories, and he _had_ taken Lois away from Richard, and he _had _attracted the attention of numerous bad guys, one of whom, Lex Luthor, had gone so far as to invade Richard's home and shoot up its inhabitants….actually, maybe Richard was right to be concerned.

"I'm always wondering if he's watching me with that X-ray vision of his," Richard muttered.

Perry had often wondered that too. He tried to put it out of his head.

"So, you think I should start carrying kryptonite?" Richard asked. "Hard to find, isn't it?"

_If only you knew, _Perry thought.

"And, just maybe, it might be perceived as an unfriendly act?" Richard said sarcastically.

_Well, there's that. Carrying kryptonite sure wouldn't help settle this thing. _

"I've actually thought about it, Perry," Richard said.

"I thought about it too," Perry blurted out.

Richard looked at him in surprise.

"When I first found out….when I started totaling up all the things he could do, and all the things he's done to me….I thought about it." It was rather a relief to make this confession. For all Clark wanted to be seen as normal, for all that Clark Kent, Kansas farm alumnus exuded an air of normality – once you knew, you could never un-know. Things were never quite the same. You couldn't help but wonder, _Superman is bigger and stronger than me. He has those powers. He could do anything to me and I couldn't stop it. _

"So?" Richard asked.

Perry told the truth. "In the end, I just trusted in God….and in Martha Kent."

Richard cast him a questioning look.

"You'll understand when you meet her," Perry promised.

Richard thought about that for a few miles, the blacktop unfolding inexorably beneath them, the yellow lane markers passing by in a hypnotic cascade.

"It's Lois too, you know," Richard said. "I see her, I want her….I love her, then my mind just goes back to that night…" he trailed off.

Perry's mind flashed back to Lois, rising from the dead – _no, she was only __**mostly dead**__, Perry – _and healing. An apparently benign power, but what if she could turn it, use it for ill?

"And then, she'll be in the newsroom, and she'll turn, and I'll see her smile, and I'm right back to being fascinated with her…" Richard mumbled, interior monologue slipping out.

"Uh-huh," Perry said noncommittally. _Not my business. Stay out of the triangle._

"And then there's Jason," Richard said. He sighed. "Is he really human?" He looked as if he'd been asking himself that question too much over the past two weeks.

Perry looked over at him, confused and a little shocked. Would the man deny his own – well, what he thought was his own – child? A son he'd raised for five years? Knowing the boy since infancy? Pulling him through his toddler years? Seeing him grow? Richard hadn't seen or talked to Jason since the night of the shooting - what _were _his feelings for his putative son?

"That's why we're on this trip, Richard," Perry said gently. "We – you – have to get some things decided." He fixed Richard with a gimlet eye. "And do it. Because the newsroom is in a shambles. It's too public, what the three of you are doing."

He caught a flash of irritation in Richard's eyes, then a rueful smile. "All right, Perry," Richard said softly, "I'll do it for the newsroom. For you."

Perry didn't believe it for a minute, but it sounded good anyway. "One last thing," he said.

"What?"

"Sometime this weekend, ask Clark to tell you about his father."

"Why?" Richard was curious.

"Just do."


	51. Step Twelve, Part ThirtyTwo

After about an hour, they made it to Smallville and registered at the town's better motel. Perry knew that to be the case – the first time he'd come, back when he was still drinking, he'd stayed in Smallville's _other _motel.

They unloaded their suitcases, and after a quick freshening up, got back into the car and headed to the Kent Farm. Perry, seeing the fields, was struck with a flash of memory. He saw himself, drunk, fiddling with cell phone, map, and steering wheel – suddenly a young man appeared out of nowhere in front of him. And Perry, swerving to avoid him, ran into a telephone pole.

From such meetings did lifelong friendships start, he mused. Although this was a stranger friendship than most.

They turned into the long, unpaved lane that served as driveway to the Kent house. A blue sedan followed them into the lane. Richard pulled their car off to the side and parked it; the sedan copied them.

Perry greeted the sedan driver with genuine affection. "Martha," he said. "It's good to see you again."

Martha Kent advanced to him and unashamedly hugged him. "You too, Perry," she replied.

"You look as good as ever," Perry couldn't help but say. And she did. Martha's hair was still mostly red, with only a few strands of gray. She'd kept her trim figure, and her air of _aliveness _belied the fact that this woman was over seventy years old.

"You must be Richard," Martha said, advancing on the younger man, extending her hand, smiling broadly.

"Uh, yes," Richard said, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

Perry rescued him. "I wasn't actually invited, Martha…." He said almost playfully.

"Oh, Perry!" Martha chided. She stood back, looked him straight in the eye. With great sincerity, she said, "Perry White, you are always welcome on the Kent Farm."

He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. _And is Richard? _Perry asked silently. She returned his look evenly, saying without words, _It depends on how this weekend turns out._

"I'm sorry I don't have a home-cooked supper for you two," Martha said as they walked to the door of the house, "but I was at a board meeting of K-CAN and it went way over time. I swear, some people talk just to hear themselves talk!" she added in disgust.

"K-CAN?" Richard asked.

"Kansas Community Action Network," Martha told him. "It's a group of non-profits that work on housing, literacy, child development, improving educational opportunities, parent training, things like that." She stared Richard straight in the eye. "I think being a parent is so very important, don't you? It's difficult. But it's the most rewarding job in the world."

Richard shuffled his feet, and Perry was reminded of the fact that the woman in front of him had been Metropolis socialite, farm wife, United States Senator from the state of Kansas, and now a member of several executive boards. Not to mention being Superman's mother. She knew well how to skewer you and leave you bleeding while you wondered what happened.

Whatever Richard was going to say in response was drowned out by the welcoming cry of "Daddy! Daddy!" Jason came barreling off the front porch, running down the steps to meet Richard. Lois and Clark followed him, staying at the door.

Perry saw Richard take in the sight of his son and hesitate just a moment. Then, with a sob, he knelt and embraced the boy, giving a tiny sob as he did so. "Jason," Richard said brokenly. He hugged the boy tighter.

Perry, seeing Richard's face at that moment, knew that the other man had just thrown away any concerns he might have about Jason not being human. And he knew that Richard was going to fight for Jason. The man would not give up his son.

"Hello, Richard," Lois said, advancing to him. There was an awkward moment, finally resolved by them shaking hands. Clark followed Lois, extending his hand. An even more awkward pause ensued, with Richard looking at Jason, then finally facing Clark directly, taking Clark's hand, and firmly shaking it.

"Well," Martha Kent said, behind Perry and Richard, "why don't we all come in." The crowd trooped into the cheery Kent Farm kitchen, Jason holding Richard's hand and leading him there, chattering all the way. Greetings were exchanged – Lois and Clark shook Perry's hand and hugged Martha.

Martha set down her briefcase and jacket. "Jason?" she asked.

"Grandma!" the boy exclaimed. He came to Martha and hugged her. Richard watched, his mouth twisting.

"Jason, why don't you show your father around the farmhouse," Martha suggested. "I'm sure he'd like to see your room."

"You bet!" Jason said. "C'mere, Daddy!" He took Richard by the hand and led him out of the kitchen, Richard following obediently.

Martha turned to look at Lois and Clark, both of whom were smiling. "Just like his mother," Clark murmured.

"Clark," Martha began.

"Yes?"

"You take Lois and get some carryout for us. I don't care where or what." She fixed Clark with a stern gaze. "Don't come back for half an hour."

Clark nodded, reached for Lois's hand. She smiled and marched toward the door with him. As the two exited the kitchen, Martha said, "And don't listen in!"

Clark smiled and nodded his assent.

Perry stood, wondering if Clark would drive to Smallville, or use his special abilities. A "swoosh" from the yard told Perry that the carryout might be from an unusual restaurant tonight – Superman wasn't limited to local eateries.

He smiled at the way Martha Kent had taken control of the situation. She'd always been one to do that. And, like clockwork, she spoke to him.

"Coffee, Perry?" Her hand hovered over the pot.

"When have you known me to turn down coffee, Martha?" he retorted. "Sure."

Martha poured him a cup, then a cup for herself. She indicated the kitchen table and they sat down.

"Perry, I'm counting on you to tell me the whole story," Martha said. "I know what Clark and Lois have to say, but I need to hear it from a….neutral observer."

Perry raised his eyebrows. "And your sympathies aren't with Clark?"

Martha snorted. "Of course they are, Perry. He's my son. I want him to be happy." She took a sip of coffee. "But my son has been known to be a lunkhead at times, and I've got to get it straight."

Perry choked into his coffee. "Superman….a _lunkhead_?"

"Come on, Perry," Martha said, almost laughing. "You can't tell me that you've known about him all these months and not figured that out."

"Well….there've been a few times….but any lunkheaded tendencies have been disguised by those saving-the-world episodes and the Pulitzer-quality writing."

"Oh, Perry," Martha said. "That's sweet." She grinned.

"Well, it's true," Perry defended himself. Then he needled her. "I always flatter senators."

"Senator no longer, you know that," Martha said.

"Doesn't matter," Perry replied. "You're still a mover and shaker."

Martha didn't deny this; she only nodded. After another sip of coffee, her air turned serious. "Tell me what's going on, Perry," she said quietly.

"Well, it all started when I found out Clark's secret, or, um, when he let me find it out," Perry said. "You know about the glasses?"

"Yes," Martha said. "And I was furious at Clark when he did that to Lois and Cat and you. That was very wrong."

"Glad to know somebody cared," Perry muttered.

"He kept on telling me that he didn't know how to fix it, and I kept on telling him to go to the Fortress and take his training, and he kept on refusing," Martha said, with the air of one repeating an old argument. "Sometimes I think he went to Krypton just so he wouldn't have me nagging him."

"Well, it's water under the bridge now," Perry said, becroggled at the thought of Superman ignoring the voice of conscience – in this case, his mother. "So I found out about Clark, and then Lois found out, and together they found Lex Luthor, and Lex got out of jail…." Perry went on to describe the whole sequence of events. Martha kept quiet through the whole recitation.

"So let me see if I have this straight," she said at the end. "You have all your memory back?" Martha stared intently at Perry.

"Um, yes, thanks to Lois," he said.

"I know Lois has hers back, too," Martha said, almost to herself. Turning to Perry, she said, "I'm so glad. When Clark took away her memory, I lost one of my good friends too. And she was the only person I could talk to about Clark – the only person who knew his secret. That's one of the reasons I was so angry at Clark. Besides the fact that what he did was wrong."

Perry could only nod.

"And, so, in a major lunkhead decision, Clark got Lois pregnant and then ran off to Krypton for five years," Martha went on.

"Uh-huh," Perry agreed.

"And Lois, not remembering, fell in love with Richard. And they thought Richard was Jason's biological father. Richard's name is on Jason's birth certificate."

"Uh-huh."

"And now Clark wants to take Lois and Jason away from Richard." Martha's tone was flat.

"Um…." Perry was noncommittal. "He hasn't actually said that…."

"Well, I know Lois wants to stay with Clark," Martha said.

"That's obvious," Perry said. "She still has feelings for Richard – she's told me so herself – but she's been with Clark ever since high school, they worked together for years, she trusted him even when she'd lost her memory – she has something much deeper with Clark."

"That's all well and good," said Martha, getting up and pacing nervously around the kitchen, "but Jason…" She turned to listen to her grandson, in the living room, still giving Richard the tour. "It's not right for Jason to just leave Richard," she said. "Clark wasn't our biological son, but we would have fought anyone who tried to take him away from us." Memory darkened Martha's eyes. "Besides, I've gotten to know my grandson over the past two weeks," she continued. "And if Richard raised him, he did a good job."

"Thanks for that," Richard said awkwardly from the door of the kitchen where he'd come, inadvertently eavesdropping.

"I meant what I said, Richard," Martha said evenly.

Richard stared back at her and nodded.

"Will you come in and have a cup of coffee?" Martha asked, indicating a seat next to Perry at the kitchen table.

"Sure," Richard said, glancing at Jason who pouted slightly at the adults settling down for adult talk.

"Jason," Martha said. "I'm going to make some cookies, and I need you to run down to the cellar and bring up two bags of chocolate chips, please."

"Wow! Sure, Grandma!" and Jason was off.

"We've got a minute," Martha said. She fixed Richard with the gimlet eye again. "Why didn't you visit Jason? You had two weeks."

Richard flushed and looked away. Then he returned his eyes to Martha's, and took a deep breath. "I was afraid."

Martha only nodded in understanding.

"I had all these thoughts in my head….is Jason human? Superman is his father….Lois has a meteor power – I saw it. What will it mean? I couldn't face Jason." Richard looked down. "I'm not proud of it." Raising his glance to Martha, he said in a more definite tone, "Then I came here and saw him, and I realized, it didn't matter. No matter who his biological father is, he's my son, and I love him."

"Jonathan felt the same way," Martha said quietly. She looked at Richard and Perry. "When Clark first came into our lives – we'd only had him a few weeks – he picked up the bed." She smiled. "That bedstead must have weighed two hundred pounds. And Clark picked it up like it was nothing." Her eyes grew distant in memory. "Jonathan was scared and worried, and he wanted to send Clark to the orphanage."

Perry leaned forward, fascinated. Not many people had heard this story about Superman's childhood, he was sure.

"And?" Richard prompted.

"And he grew to love Clark," Martha said, wistfully. "He accepted Clark, alien origins and all." Once again Richard had her full attention. "I'm sorry that you got stuck in all this, Richard, but I'm not sorry Jason lived with you." Her voice soft, she concluded, "You're a good man."

Richard nodded slowly.

"Tomorrow, you and Clark have to talk," Martha said briskly.

Richard made a small move of withdrawal.

"Oh, he's not going to do anything to you," Martha said. "I won't let him." Perry and Martha exchanged a small laugh. "But you have to settle this." Her eyes softened as Jason came running into the kitchen, triumphantly holding two bags of chocolate chips.

Perry could almost hear Richard protesting, "But he's _Superman_!" And he could almost hear Martha replying, _"So?"_ Perry chuckled into his coffee. He'd learned to speak to the man behind the Suit. It was time Richard learned the same.

Martha pulled out a mixing bowl and some measuring cups from a cupboard. "Jason, will you help me measure the sugar?" she asked.

Jason was more than willing.

As Martha assembled ingredients, (at the same time dealing with Jason "helping") she said casually, "Can you tell your Dad about the farm and what you've been doing here?"

"Oh boy!" Jason said. "Mr. Hubbard keeps his horses here and they're called Laurey and Curley….Robert gets to ride them…Mr. Hubbard let me ride on Laurey…" Jason almost gabbled in his hurry to tell everything. "The horse poop doesn't smell all that bad….and Shelby likes to eat it – eew!"

Perry smiled. Jason tugged Richard by the hand and took him outside, presumably to show him some horse manure. Perry and Martha just laughed.

After a while the two returned, and Martha sent Jason upstairs to get cleaned up before dinner. She turned to Richard, her easy conversation masking things Perry knew to be of great significance.

"Did you ever wonder how Superman came to Earth?" Martha asked.

Richard rubbed his forehead. "You know, I never did," he said slowly. "It just seems like he's always been here….but I remember when he made his debut." He looked confused. "Why didn't I wonder that? When you say it now, it makes no sense – why would an alien speak English? How does he know our customs?"

Perry nodded significantly at Martha.

"Clark will tell you all about that tomorrow," Martha promised. Jason came clattering back down the stairs. She turned to him, and inspected his hands. "OK, they're clean enough. You can add the chocolate chips to the dough, now, Jason."

The boy carefully opened the bags and dumped the chips into the mixing bowl. Perry wasn't the only one who inhaled the rich chocolate odor.

"It's another Mr. Clark story, Jason," Martha said.

"Yay!"

"Jonathan – that's Mr. Clark's father, Jason," she said to her grandson, "Jonathan and I were in our truck coming back from town. And a meteor struck the ground right in front of us. But when it cooled off, we saw that it wasn't a meteor, it was actually a spaceship! And inside it, was guess who?"

"Mr. Clark!" Jason said excitedly.

"And we knew he was supposed to be our son, and we took him home…." Martha went on, as the chocolate chip cookies took shape under her hands.


	52. Step Twelve, Part Thirtythree

Lois and Clark brought back the carryout, and from the packaging, Perry was sure they'd been to San Francisco to get it. No matter – it was excellent.

Perry remembered the last time they'd all sat together at dinner. That dinner had not been a success, even before Lex Luthor burst in and shot it up. The dinner tonight _was _a success, and the difference was Martha Kent.

She radiated love and caring, not just for her son and grandson, but for everyone at her dinner table. Whenever Martha looked at Lois, Martha's face softened and she gave a wistful smile. When Martha saw Jason, joy bubbled up, the sense of an unexpected treasure found.

Everyone responded in his or her own way. Clark relaxed, dropped his annoying geek persona, and became the person that Perry had been getting to know – the real man, the combination of Clark Kent and Superman that too often was divided into its component parts. Richard relaxed, and stopped the obsessive rubbing of his left arm where his gunshot wound had been. Lois' abrasiveness and sarcasm was toned down into an acerbic wit, and even Perry felt less curmudgeonly.

Martha called everyone to the table, and led them through a short grace. Perry relaxed and his mouth watered at the appetizing smells emanating from the carryout containers. The adults served themselves, Lois serving Jason, in silence. Jason seemed a little awed by the presence of the adults in his life all at one table, and sat quietly.

After a moment, Martha tossed up the first conversational ball. "So, Richard," she said, "how did you start working at the _Daily Planet_?"

Richard glanced up in surprise and met Martha's inquiring, non-judgmental gaze. "Well, it's a long story," he began hesitantly.

Martha only nodded.

"Well, um," Richard began. "You probably heard that my parents were killed in a car accident when I was ten."

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Kent said. "No, I hadn't known that."

"It was a long time ago," Richard said. Perry knew Richard's even tone concealed a deep hurt. You never really got over something like that. Richard had told him once that he still had the occasional nightmare about it.

"I didn't know that," Clark murmured.

Lois leaned over and squeezed Richard's hand. She obviously had known it, and knew what it cost Richard to speak of it.

"Anyway," Richard continued, "I went to live with my grandparents – my mother's parents. They were fairly well off, and when my grandmother passed away four years later, my grandfather decided that he was going to travel. So he took me out of school – "

Perry knew that Richard had been in an exclusive boarding school on the East Coast, and still maintained contacts with many fellow students.

" – and we spent the next four years traveling all over the world, mostly hunting. He was quite the big game hunter." Richard shrugged. "He made sure I had a tutor, several tutors, actually, and we spent enough time in various cities that I got quite the dose of culture." He laughed shortly. "So I can order dinner at a restaurant in Paris, and I know the right way to gut a Cape buffalo, too."

Martha nodded approvingly.

"Perry got in touch with me, oh, when I was fifteen or sixteen – "

"I was getting sober then," Perry interjected. "Wanted to contact my family, make amends where I had to."

" – and, since I was overseas so much, he suggested we keep contact via e-mail," Richard said. "And then, being as he's _Perry White _and works for the _Daily Planet_" – Richard said the phrases in a pompous tone – "he said, 'Well, why don't you write some articles about your overseas adventures, and I can get Travel to buy them from you as a freelancer.'" Richard chuckled again, turning to look at Lois who was shaking her head.

"Lois knows it isn't that easy to write to _Planet _standards," he said. "I think Perry didn't even bother sending my articles to Travel for at least the first year."

"The first eighteen months," Perry rumbled, chuckling. "You took a lot of editing."

"A whole lot," Richard agreed. "Anyway, Perry mentored me, and guided me, and gave me suggestions, and basically whipped me into being a good enough writer that I could get published in the _Planet._"

Clark smiled. "Yeah, me too," he said ruefully. "If I had to hear about not splitting infinitives one more time - "

Perry put on his editorial voice. "Remember, boys, Grammar And Spelling Are Our Friends." The unctuous tones carried their own capitalization.

Everyone laughed. Richard and Clark's gazes met, and this time there was no animosity, no caution. Just shared humor.

"So what happened next?" Martha asked, leaning forward. Perry laughed inwardly. Clark had told him once that his mother was terminally curious, and that she had what Clark called, "The Information Extractor". Like Clark, Perry thought, Martha's curiosity sprang from a deep interest in people, and an actual caring for them. Clark had said that whenever he brought home new friends, his mother knew everything about them and their family within the first thirty minutes of meeting them. Despite splitting her time between Washington and Smallville for years, Martha still knew just about everyone in Smallville, and what was going on with their families. Even when they went to Metropolis, Clark had told Perry, they would almost always run into some acquaintance of Martha's.

And now it looked like Richard was the target of the Information Extractor. Perry had no doubts that she would have Richard's life story out of him in short order. And, he had to concede, Martha had a reason. Richard was the adoptive father of her grandchild. She had to know him.

"When I was eighteen we came back to the States, I went to Princeton, got my degree," Richard continued. "I worked in my grandfather's business for awhile before deciding it wasn't for me." A distant look in his eyes. "I took off for the next couple years, went around the world again, got back in touch with Perry, submitted some more articles to the _Planet. _Perry put in a good word for me, and I got hired at the European bureau in Milan."

"I opened the door, but you got yourself in, Richard," Perry said, proud of his nephew. "All the languages didn't hurt any."

"Well, yeah," Richard said. "After a few years, I came to Metropolis." He glanced at Lois, gave a more cautious look at Clark. "I saw Lois, and right away, she attracted me." He smiled fondly at a good memory. "It wasn't long before I was officially smitten. One thing led to another, and then Jason came, and well, you know the rest."

Perry saw that Clark had a sad look in his eyes. Was he sorry for what he'd missed?

Martha changed the subject, going back and asking Richard about his years at the Ivy League school he'd attended. Lois chimed in, and then Clark, talking about the differences between Metropolis University (Lois) and Central Kansas University (Clark) versus Richard's educational experience. They segued onto how they'd gotten their jobs at the _Daily Planet _(Lois, surprisingly, was not the youngest – Perry had started work as a copy boy at the tender age of thirteen under the reign of legendary Editor-In-Chief George Taylor), and drifted into general conversation. They lingered over coffee (and wine for those who chose), with even Jason enjoying the banter, adult level though it was.

By the end of the evening, the awkwardness had worn off Richard talking with Lois and Richard talking with Clark. Certainly, they hadn't addressed the major issues, by mutual unspoken agreement, but at least now Richard could speak with Clark or Lois without flinching away or looking down.

Martha stood, her motion indicating that the dinner was over. "Richard," she said, "do you want to have Jason spend the night with you at the motel?"

Richard, surprised for a moment, said, "What about Perry?"

"Oh, Perry can spend the night here, in Jason's room, right, Perry?" Martha said. At the same time she gave Perry a look that said he would do what she said if he knew what was good for him.

"Ah, sure," Perry replied.

"That would be nice," Richard said.

"It's settled, then," Martha said decisively. "Lois, why don't you and Richard go up with Jason and pack a bag for him?" Lois and Jason got up as well. "And Richard, we'll expect you back here at eight tomorrow morning – Lois and I will be taking Jason out, and you and Clark will be working on the fence line."

Perry raised his eyebrows at Martha's generalship. Richard, Clark, Lois, and Jason all looked a little stunned, but none protested. As Richard and Lois went up the stairs, Jason following, Perry could hear Richard muttering, "What just happened?"

Perry chuckled. Then he thought of something. "My bag is still at the motel – "

"Clark will get your bag," Martha said implacably.

"I will? Oh yes," Clark said, a twinkle in his eye. "If you'll just loan me your key, Perry…."

Perry pulled his keycard out of his pocket and gave it to Clark.

"Back in a minute," Clark said, walking quickly out of the kitchen.

Perry looked accusingly at Martha. In a teasing tone that belied his expression, he said, "You planned this."

"Of course," Martha said equably. She smiled back. "Clark's done so many lunkheaded things in his life….I know it would take him months to work through this. And Richard? I didn't know what he was like before today. I'm just setting up a place and time where they can all talk it out."

Jason, scampering down the stairs, cut off further conversation. Lois and Richard followed, the latter holding a small overnight bag. Clark came in at the same time, carrying Perry's suitcase.

"Perry, about your bag…." Richard began, then caught sight of it in Clark's possession. "Oh. I see you already took care of that." He drew in a breath, looked around. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs. Kent – Martha," Richard said. "We'll see you back here tomorrow morning." Giving a general wave to the room, he and Jason exited.

Lois sighed. Perry could only imagine the stress she'd been under, the awkwardness, even in the friendly confines of the Kent kitchen.

"We're not done yet," Martha said. "Lois, if you'll help me change the bedding….Clark, do the dishes." Her brisk words left no room for quibbling or defiance.

"All right," the two said in unison, laughing as they realized the simultaneity. Lois and Martha headed back upstairs.

"You want some help with the dishes?" Perry asked, feeling vaguely guilty that everyone around him was working while he sat in lordly indolence.

Clark smiled. "I think I've got it, Perry," he said. A blur and a whoosh, and the table was clean, the leftovers put away, and the plates stacked at the sink.

"Didn't you wash the dishes?" Perry said sarcastically.

"It takes time for water to fill up the sink," Clark replied cheerfully. "Besides, we have a dishwasher – I just have to rinse and load." By the time Lois and Martha returned, the kitchen was in perfect order. Lois went up to Clark and planted a kiss on his lips, and he held her tightly.

"He's good for household chores," Perry said to Martha, indicating Clark.

"Yes, he'll do," Martha said teasingly. "Clark, Lois…."

Clark turned his attention away from Lois and his increasingly deep kisses. "Oh. Mom. Perry. Um, uh…."

"We're going out. On a date." Lois said it firmly. She stepped on Clark's foot.

"Right," Clark said belatedly. "On a date."

"And we're leaving right now," Lois said, stepping on Clark's toe again.

"Right now," Clark repeated, not moving. He seemed engrossed by Lois, unable to speak except to repeat what she said. Perry laughed inside – Richard wasn't the only one who was officially smitten.

"And we're leaving right now," Lois repeated, looking a little annoyed as she pulled Clark's arm and got him moving.

"Right now," Clark mumbled again, holding Lois more closely to himself. Perry chuckled as they stumbled out into the backyard, and a moment later he heard the "whoosh" of Superman taking off.

"They haven't been on a date before?" he asked Martha. "Lois moved in with him…."

She shrugged. "One of them has always been here with Jason, ever since Lois….woke up. And I guess there hasn't been much time otherwise, what with working at the _Planet, _and Clark's…..other job."

Perry nodded. He also wondered – maybe Lois didn't really want to commit until she knew more about how Richard would react. Tonight's dinner had given her reason to hope that there could be an amicable separation. With typical Lois flair, she'd made her choice and chosen Clark.

"More coffee, Perry?" Martha asked, changing the subject.

"Ah, no thanks." He stood up.

"Why don't I show you your room?" Martha asked. "You can put your suitcase down."

"OK." Perry followed Martha up the stairs to a small room – obviously Clark's once, based on the star-painted ceiling. One red star, amidst all the other white ones, caught his attention.

"Krypton's sun," Martha said, recognizing what Perry looked at. "At least that's where Clark says it's at."

Perry nodded, and suddenly felt very tired. "Martha, if you don't mind, I think I'll turn in early. It's been a long day."

Martha sighed, and for a moment, looked just as tired as Perry felt. "That's fine, Perry. The bathroom is down the hall here – " she pointed. "I've got a few more things to do. Good night," she said, walking away.

"Good night," he replied.


	53. Step Twelve, Part ThirtyFour

Perry woke early the next morning, as was his habit. Before, when he'd been drinking, he'd been a heavy sleeper, reluctant to get up and face the day. Now, when he wasn't waking up with a hangover, he found himself eager to arise.

He threw on some casual clothing and padded quietly down the stairs. He stepped outdoors into the fading darkness of the pre-dawn. The sun had not yet risen, and a light mist hovered over the ground from last night's rain. One early-waking bird gave a call, but there was no response. Perry breathed in the gentle moisture of the air, moisture which would bake away later in the hot Kansas sun.

He stood, just a moment, marveling at the sight of the world, thanking God that he was able to live and be sober for another day. He set off on a walk, hoping to get in his exercise, and at the same time, doing his daily meditation.

Perry had tramped most of a mile and was headed back to the house when he saw two figures descend from the sky and land near a grove of trees. They were scarcely visible and Perry only saw them because they were silhouetted against the eastern horizon, where the sky was just turning a beautiful amber-red.

Perry thought wryly that at a previous time in his life, he'd have found a flying couple very newsworthy, but not anymore. He ambled his way towards the couple. As expected (and who else _could _it be, really?), it was Lois and Clark.

Clark let go of Lois, and she stretched like a cat. Then she leaned forward and impishly kissed him, a kiss that turned deep as he pulled her closer.

Perry walked closer as the two continued their kiss. As he neared, Clark broke off his kiss and turned to greet Perry. Lois's languorous contentment and Clark's sappy smile confirmed Perry's supposition that their "date" had not gone beyond the confines of Clark's apartment.

He shrugged. They'd burned for each other for years and finally the stars had aligned. Perry hoped Richard wasn't expecting to get back together with Lois – the casual affection, the deep love shown between Clark and Lois only emphasized how complete their relationship was. Perry had never seen that attachment between Lois and Richard.

"Good morning," Perry said quietly, not wanting to disturb the early morning stillness.

Clark and Lois greeted him with similarly quiet "Good mornings," apparently feeling the same way. Nothing more was said and nothing needed to be said. The three walked back to the house quietly.

Once indoors, Clark took on the role of host. "Breakfast?" he asked Perry and Lois.

"Coffee first," said Lois, and Perry had to agree. Clark quickly set a pot to brewing, when Martha came down the stairs. Perry had to admire her – even in casual clothing, she looked darn good first thing in the morning.

"Morning, Mom," Clark said, and Perry and Lois echoed him. Martha smiled to see her kitchen full of guests and returned their greetings cheerfully. "Clark will be cooking breakfast," she said. "He takes orders."

Clark smiled and his hands blurred. Before Perry could inhale, Clark held a whisk and spatula, and eggs, pancake batter, and cut fruit sat on the counter. "Yep, just call me Mr. Short Order Cook," Clark said. "Mom? What'll you have? Omelet? Pancakes? Toast?"

"Cheese omelet for me," Martha said, relaxing back with a cup of coffee. She smiled as Clark assembled ingredients and started cooking at normal human speed. "You know, there were so many mornings when I had to get up early and cook for Jonathan and him….it's nice to get cooked for, now."

"Just want to show that I _can _cook," Clark said.

Lois sighed. "It's good that one of us can." Perry chuckled inwardly; Lois' contention that a woman who cooked just didn't have enough gumption to call for carryout was well known around the _Planet _newsroom.

Perry watched Clark cook the omelet with savoir faire. Clark didn't have a special omelet pan, so he carefully folded the egg crust over the filling, then deftly flipped the omelet in the air, catching it in the pan, with the uncooked side now down for the final browning. A last-minute blur, and a plate with omelet, toast, and cut strawberries was placed in front of Martha, along with a steaming cup of coffee.

"Next?" Clark said, looking at Perry.

"Lois first," Perry said.

"Oh, go ahead, Perry," Lois said. "I always have to get my coffee in before I can eat anything."

"Well, OK then," Perry said, and put in his request for pancakes, sausage, with two eggs over easy, and hash browns. (He put that last in out of curiosity and just to be difficult – there were no potatoes to be seen. It didn't matter – in less time than he would have thought possible, his plate slid in front of him.)

A car pulling up in the driveway interrupted Lois' breakfast order (something along the lines of coffee and a croissant – Perry hoped she'd order a more substantial breakfast. Lois never seemed to eat enough, especially when on the trail of a story, and Perry wondered if part of her famous temper was that she was hungry.)

It was Richard and Jason, and Jason slammed into the kitchen in excitement. He chattered a mile a minute about spending the evening with Daddy, and the motel, and staying up late to watch the movie, and how he drew pictures, and…"

"Did you have a good time, Jason?" Lois asked.

"It was great!" her son replied.

"Mr. Clark is cooking breakfast – what would you like?" Lois asked.

"Can I have the waffle with strawberries and whipped cream?" Jason asked eagerly.

Clark glanced at Lois, got her unspoken permission, and nodded. "Sure. Why don't you help me pour the batter in the waffle iron?" Jason came eagerly across the room.

"What about his allergies?" Richard said quietly to Lois as he sat next to Perry, joining the group at the kitchen table. Perry thought it seemed a very natural thing to do. Martha Kent was the heart and soul of their group, and her kitchen was naturally friendly and welcoming. Even Richard, lost, lonely, heartsick, confused, had relaxed in its camaraderie last night.

"He seems to have gotten over his allergies," Lois replied, equally quietly.

"Oh." Richard looked around, belatedly made his greetings. "Good morning. Perry. Martha."

"Good morning," they replied, and Clark too.

Clark slid a full plate of scrambled eggs and fruit in front of Lois, dressing it proudly with a croissant on the side. Perry idly wondered if he'd actually gone to France to get it. Probably not. Clark hadn't had it last night, and Perry knew for a fact that Clark and Lois had been….busy…since then. It had probably been in the freezer. Of course, he might have gotten it the day before. So actual French croissants were a real possibility.

"Clark is making breakfasts," Martha said. "Richard, what would you like?"

Clark nodded as he got Jason set with his waffle at the kitchen table.

Richard looked acutely uncomfortable. "Just coffee for me, thanks," he said.

"Oh, you'll need more than that," Martha said. "You and Clark have to check the fence line today, and that takes fuel."

"We do?" Richard asked.

"You do," Martha said firmly.

Perry, awed at the sight of the master at work, only quirked his lips as he saw that Richard realize resistance was futile. Richard, giving in with good grace, said, "Well, in that case, load me up. What've you got?"

"Eggs, any style," Clark said. "Omelets. Pancakes or waffles. Sausage or bacon. Hash browns. Croissants. Toast – rye, white, or whole wheat. No biscuits and gravy handy, but I can make them if you want them. Strawberries. Mixed fruit. Cold cereal or hot oatmeal. Orange juice. Coffee."

"I might as well be at the Metropolis Diner," Richard said, not quite teasingly, but with some humor in it. "If everyone else has had theirs…"

Everyone made noises of agreement and pointed to their plates.

"Well, then, how about two eggs over easy with bacon, toast, and a side of mixed fruit?"

"No problem." Clark put the breakfast together with deft sureness, then made a plate for himself, joining the group at the table.

"You ever been a short order cook?" Perry asked, impressed by Clark's juggling of everyone's order and his ability to have everything come out hot at the same time.

"Actually, I did do some undercover work as a cook in one of my investigations," Clark mused. "It's come in handy more than once."

"And here I thought you were going to say your mother taught you everything," Martha teased.

"I was going to say," Clark parroted, "that I could never have made it in the diner without the strong foundation of basic cookery that I learned at my mother's knee." Everyone laughed at his tone.

Eventually Martha sat back in her chair and began issuing directives. What Perry found interesting was that everyone obeyed. He wondered if Clark had copied his "Superman voice" from Martha.

"Clark, you and Richard need to check the fence line. I think there are some problems in the stretch by the pond."

The two men nodded, Richard looking a little uneasy, but conceding he was in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Lois and I will take Jason shopping, and Perry?"

"Yes?"

"You said you had some _Planet _work to do?"

"Yeah, the assistant editors can handle most of it, but since I left, um, somewhat unexpectedly, there's some things I have to do. If I can get on to your internet…"

"We'll get you set up." Martha cast a look at the assembled breakfasters. "Richard, Lois, if you can get Jason cleaned up..."

The boy in question had somehow managed to get whipped cream into his hair.

Richard chuckled. "I've got him." He got up. "Come with me, sport." He took Jason down the hall for a cleanup.

Perry sat back and sipped his coffee. Martha looked sternly at the mess in the kitchen. "Clark?"

"Mom," Clark fake-whined, "I did the cooking!"

"And you can clean up too," Martha said, mock sternly.

Clark laughed, and then the blur descended on the kitchen, ending with things back in spotless order. Perry didn't even blink. Perhaps he was growing blasé.

"You know, I like watching that," he mused.

"Super-speed cleanups?" Lois asked.

"No, actually, just somebody else cooking and doing the dishes. Why do you think I eat out all the time when Alice is away?"

Lois's reply was cut off by Richard and Jason returning to the kitchen. Perry almost laughed at Richard's amazed expression that turned into realization with a little bitterness.

"Well, I guess things are OK here," Richard muttered.

"Thanks for getting Jason cleaned up," Martha began. "Now, Richard, you're dressed OK, but Ben Hubbard and his son left some spare boots here, and I really think you'll want to wear boots instead of those nice shoes."

Richard only nodded. Perry had to give him credit – or maybe he should give Lois credit? Richard seemed well-trained in going along with suggestions when it was obvious there was no alternative. Clark, Perry noticed, was already dressed in flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots.

"Now, we'll be going…." A confused scrum, everyone ended up on the front porch, Richard kissing Jason goodbye and Lois doing the same thing with Clark. Richard's eyes narrowed. Martha waved to Perry and marched off to her car, Lois and Jason in tow. Clark gestured to Richard and pointed to a two-wheeled cart, laden with fence posts, a sledgehammer, a post-hole digger, and a cooler with water bottles in it. The two men headed for the cart, and Perry went back indoors.


	54. Step Twelve, Part ThirtyFive

Perry spent the morning alternating between on-line direction and phone calls to his various subordinates. Satisfied finally, he logged off, stretched, and decided to go back outdoors. He stepped outside, noticing the day had turned warm and the sun was much brighter. He went back into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Motion at the corner of his eye drew his attention. Perry almost slopped his coffee at the sight of Clark, who was absolutely filthy.

"What happened to you?" Perry blurted out.

"In a minute," Clark said. He moved over to a rack on the wall which contained numerous hooks supporting numerous keys. Only then did Perry notice that the taller man was floating.

"Didn't want to get the floor dirty," Clark said, correctly interpreting Perry's questioning gaze. Clark took a key set off its hook and went back outdoors.

"Richard!" Clark called. Perry saw him throw the keys. "Take the truck! Don't get your car dirty!" Perry didn't hear Richard respond, but he did hear the farm truck firing up and heading down the driveway. Clark came back into the kitchen, still (as Perry noted with amusement) floating and avoiding contact with floor or walls.

"Let me get cleaned up first," Clark said, and zipped upstairs. Perry raised his eyebrows, and poured himself another cup of coffee. Clark came downstairs, toweling his hair dry, now clean.

"I didn't think repairing a fence line was, uh, that demanding of a job," Perry began. His reportorial curiosity flared again.

"Not usually," Clark agreed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting at the kitchen table with Perry. "Did you finish your _Planet _work?"

Perry fixed him with a gimlet eye. "Stop changing the subject, Clark. Tell me what happened."

Clark sighed. "Well, it was a little awkward at first."

Perry had to agree. _Suddenly you're put in close proximity with a co-worker – no problem. Except that you just discovered said co-worker has a secret identity as superhero, alien, world savior, and celebrity. And, not only that, he's your fiancee's ex-lover, and the father of who you thought was your son. Yeah, that might be awkward. _

Clark stared into his coffee. "My mother, you know, had maneuvered us into doing this job. I guess she figured that we had to talk, but there was no reason not to do farm chores at the same time." He laughed. "And I've been meaning to fix that fence line for awhile anyway. It's right on the road, so I can't…."

_Speed through the job, or pound in the posts without a hammer, _Perry mentally completed. _There might be witnesses on the road. _

Clark went on. "So, I had the tools for the job all ready, and we set off…" Perry could almost see what Clark described.

* * *

"_It's just a short distance down that way," Clark said, pointing. "I'll take the cart." _

_They walked in silence. Soon they came to the area of the fence that needed repair. The county road on the other side of the fence was higher than the low-lying Kent Farm ground, which sloped into a small pond. With last night's rain, the ground at the fence line was actually somewhat soft and mucky. _

_Trucks carrying gravel rumbled by at frequent intervals. Richard gave a short exclamation of annoyance when the breeze picked up and blew a few pebbles off a passing truck into his face._

_"The quarry must be working today," Clark said, to make conversation. "They don't work it every day, but when they do, they run trucks every fifteen to thirty minutes." He grimaced. "The trucks are supposed to cover their loads with tarps, but sometimes they don't." _

_Richard nodded. _

_Another truck passed by, on the heels of the first. Another shower of gravel followed. "Looks like the breeze we're getting today is going to rain pebbles on us," Clark said, trying to make light of it. "From every truck." _

_Clark set the cart a fair distance back from the fence line, chocking a wheel with a small rock to be sure the cart didn't roll into the nearby muddy edge of the pond. He squinted at the fence. _

_"We've got to replace ten posts," he said. "I can pull out the old ones." Diffidently he asked Richard, "Is your arm still bothering you?" _

_Richard's eyes whipped up and met Clark's at the reminder of the whole episode where he was shot. "A bit," Richard said cautiously, rubbing his left arm in an absent gesture Clark had seen before. He refrained from retorting with something like, __**At least I didn't get killed**__. Clark was grateful for that. _

_"I'll hammer in the new posts, if you'll just hold them steady," Clark offered. _

_"All right," Richard agreed cautiously. _

_

* * *

_"It was a little awkward at first," Clark said to Perry. "But, after a while, Richard actually started talking to me."

Perry snorted.

Clark looked at him in surprise.

"You think I haven't noticed that Richard hasn't really talked to you since that night?" Perry retorted.

Clark sighed, took off his glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose. "I know. Perry, that's one of the reasons – a big reason – why I maintain two separate identities. It's the Look."

Perry could hear the capitalization.

"Yeah, it's nice having the powers, and all that, but being looked at like a freak by everyone I meet is not so appealing," Clark said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "So Clark Kent is a regular guy and I let Superman get The Look. _You've_ seen it." He replaced the glasses.

He had, Perry realized.

"Actually, Perry, that's how I knew you'd found me out – the way you looked at me in the newsroom for two days before you hauled me to the diner for a one-on-one."

"I thought I was being subtle about it," Perry said defensively.

"You were pretty good," Clark allowed. "But, after that, you've never treated me any differently." The warmth in his tone irrationally lifted Perry's spirits.

"I won't unless you stop bringing in the stories," Perry teased.

Clark chuckled. Then, more seriously, he said, "Richard….Richard, he didn't have any time to prepare. It was a big shock to him. And, you know how I turned off the masking technology for you?"

Perry nodded.

"I never did that for Richard. Part of how that Kryptonian technology works, is that it heightens the ludicrous factor." Clark shuffled his feet. "That's the best way I can describe it."

"The ludicrous factor?"

"Yes. The part where you say, 'Clark Kent and Superman sure look a lot alike', and then you think about it for a minute, and then you say, 'Nah. That's ludicrous.'"

Perry couldn't help laughing. Then he sobered. "So that's still on for Richard?"

"Yes. So, every morning, he wakes up, and Superman and Clark Kent are two different people. But, just like in the newspapers, the truth is an absolute defense. For libel, in the case of the _Daily Planet. _And for overriding the Kryptonian mind-whammy, and knowing that Clark Kent is Superman, in Richard's case."

"The truth has a lot of power," Perry mused.

"Yes," Clark replied seriously. "When I showed Richard the truth – showed him who I was – that truth was enough to override all the masking technology. He can't un-know it."

"He could forget, though, if you wanted him to?" Perry probed.

"I'm not doing that again," Clark said shortly. He stared off into space for a moment. "So, we were working together, and I'd pulled out the rotting fence posts. I was hammering in a new post while Richard held it straight, and he started asking about how it was that Lois had forgotten. And it got ugly…."

* * *

_"So, explain this to me again," Richard said, in a deadly even tone. "You've got the power to make everyone think that you and Superman are two different people?"_

_"Well, it's not innate," Clark said, uncomfortable. "It's actually Kryptonian technology. Not part of my powers."_

_Richard dismissed that. "And," he said quietly but intensely, "you have the power to erase people's memories?"_

_A truck from the quarry rumbled by, and a larger spray of gravel rained over the two men. Intent, they ignored it. _

_Clark thought about dressing it up, or downplaying it. No, it was time to be honest. "Yes." One word, baldly spoken. _

_Richard advanced closer, almost hissing his words. "And you did that to Lois, the woman you say you love? You left her pregnant, and then you took away her memory and went away for five years?"_

_Clark squirmed. He couldn't defend his actions. They were unforgivable. "Yes."_

_"I can't believe you!" Richard said, throwing up his arms and then wincing as he stretched the scar tissue at the bullet wound. "You've got the propaganda machine working full tilt, don't you, Mr. 'Truth and Justice'?" His eyes narrowed. "I bet you're going to do it to me, too, aren't you?" He ignored Clark's head-shake. "That would sure make your life a lot easier, wouldn't it? You take Jason and Lois and I won't even know why!" He looked in disgust at Clark. "You're no better than Lex Luthor. You're just like him." _

_The flat word stung. "I am not!" Clark said, driven into a kindergarten-level response. He wanted to advance on Richard, shake the man. He restrained himself, knowing his size intimidated people even in his Clark Kent persona. "I am not," he repeated desperately. He wasn't, was he? Sure, he'd done some things he wasn't proud of, especially lately, but…._

_He felt tongue-tied, all his facile explanations and late-at-night rehearsed statements deserting him. All he seemed able to do was deny the accusation. "I am not like Lex Luthor." _

_Richard's reply was lost in the rumble of another gravel truck passing by. The steady breeze blew its usual shower of pebbles over them. _

_Clark felt the pain before he saw it. The glowing green rocks. Kryptonite. If the truck had carried a lot, it had driven away too quickly for Clark to notice. But now, even these tiny pebbles – in their numbers – had the power to bring him to his knees. He and his parents had cleared the farm of Kryptonite years ago. But what does it matter, he thought, when fate throws more at me?_

_He staggered away from the rocks, heading toward Richard. The familiar nausea cramped his gut. His muscles turned to water. With slow inevitability, he began to collapse, reaching for Richard as he did so. If Richard would support him, he could get far enough away….He saw Richard's face react in alarm as he staggered to the other man, grabbing at Richard's legs as he fell. _

_Richard pushed back at him, but Clark's heavy mass knocked them both down, into the mud, Richard underneath Clark. Richard frantically pushed at Clark, thinking he was being attacked. He squirmed out from under Clark's rapidly weakening form, leaving them both well-covered with mud. _

_"Please…" Clark murmured. The pain was growing ever more intense. _

_Richard drew in a deep breath to still his gasps. He rubbed his sore arm and looked at Clark curiously – if this was a fight, Clark wasn't taking advantage. _

_"Please…" Clark murmured again. __**Don't leave me. Don't leave me here to die. **_

_"What?" Richard asked. _

_"Kryptonite," Clark managed to squeeze out. _

_Richard's eyes widened. He took a moment to scan the area. The tiny pebbles glowed their evil green. _

_Without a pause, Richard bent to gather up the toxic meteor rocks. His hands were full as he neared Clark, and Clark groaned louder as the pain worsened. Richard figured out what was happening, and backed away. He looked at the pebbles and then threw them as hard as he could into the fields, well away from Clark. He found more of the green pebbles, and scooped up as many as he could find, throwing them all as far as he could. _

_Clark's pain lessened as Richard carefully cleared the area. Soon he was able to sit up. He pointed out several small pebbles that Richard had missed, alerted to their presence by his own built-in detector. _

_Finally, he just sat there, mud-covered, still a little weak. Richard squatted down, looked him in the eye._

_"You all right?"_

_Clark could only give an exhausted, crazy laugh. He returned Richard's direct gaze and took a deep breath. "You know, you're not like Lex Luthor either." _

_He laughed harder at the surprise in Richard's face. _


	55. Step Twelve, Part ThirtySix

_Richard squatted down, looked him in the eye._

_"You all right?"_

_Clark could only give an exhausted, crazy laugh. He returned Richard's direct gaze and took a deep breath. "You know, you're not like Lex Luthor either." _

_He laughed harder at the surprise in Richard's face. _

_

* * *

_"He isn't, you know," Clark told Perry. "Lex would have piled the kryptonite on me, watched me writhe in pain. Richard…." His voice trailed off. "The first thing Richard did, when he saw what was happening, was help me. He didn't hesitate a second." Clark straightened his shoulders. "He's a good man."

Perry nodded. "What happened next?"

"Well, somehow things were all right after that. I apologized for everything, on general principles. And we just sat there in the mud, talking," Clark said, smiling. "We agreed that I hadn't really taken Lois, because Lois is Lois, and Lois is going to do what Lois wants to do." He smiled again. "And, I didn't say it out loud, but I'm very lucky that what Lois wants is to be with me."

Perry nodded again.

"And I got a lead-lined bag from the house – I don't think you noticed me come in, Perry, I was moving pretty fast – and Richard was kind enough to gather up all the kryptonite pebbles and get them behind lead." Clark grimaced. "I asked him to hold on to the bag for me."

"And Jason?"

"Jason. Well, he's going on a sleepover with Ben Hubbard's grandson tonight. After he leaves, the plan is to talk tonight, and settle on a joint custody schedule of some sort. You and my mom are the umpires."

"Whoa! I didn't sign up for that!" Perry said, alarmed.

"Don't worry, Perry, you won't have to do a thing with Martha Kent in the house," Clark teased. "Just give the appearance of neutrality."

"I can do that," Perry said, relieved. "OK."

"Richard and I were pretty dirty, so he went back to the motel to clean up. You saw what I looked like."

"Like someone that fell into a muddy ditch."

"Yeah, basically, that's what happened." Clark smiled. "You know, I never thought falling in a muddy ditch would be what we needed."

Perry's response was cut off by the sound of Martha's car pulling up. They headed to the door, and met Martha, Lois, and Jason. Clark hugged his son, then pulled Lois close to him for a kiss. Perry exchanged smiles with Martha, and said "Hello" to Jason. Shy, Jason merely echoed the greeting.

"Did you have a good time?" Clark asked.

"I think all of Smallville has seen us traipsing around," Lois agreed wryly. "Jason, why don't you go upstairs and change your clothes?"

Jason looked at Clark, then at Perry. Apparently the older man still had the power to frighten him, for the boy scampered up the stairs without further ado.

"I don't know how that child can get dirty just walking around town," Lois said.

"It's a Kent trait," Clark said. "My mom can tell you so many stories…"

Lois cast an arch look at Martha. "Speaking of your mother, she introduced Jason as _my_ son. But I think a lot of people were drawing conclusions. They were hinting about you being the father."

Martha only smiled. She seemed determined to let Lois do the talking.

"What'd she say?" Clark asked, a mixture of admiration and apprehension on his face.

"Nothing concrete," Lois replied. "Martha is the master of the vague answer and the non-denial denial."

"Anyone that's been in Congress has learned to do that," Martha agreed, laughter in her voice. She changed the subject. "Clark, help me carry in the groceries?"

"No problem, Mom." Clark gave a quick look around (checking for witnesses, Perry thought) then with the usual blur and whoosh of speed, bags of food covered the kitchen table.

"Plans for the afternoon?" Clark asked, looking at Lois hungrily.

"I have to get Jason set up for his sleepover, but that won't take very long," Lois said. "Your mother said something about baking a pie for dessert. Perry?"

"Uh, I've still got some _Planet _work to get done," Perry replied.

"Maybe you and I and Jason could go out for a walk?" Clark asked.

"That would be nice," Lois replied. She squeezed Clark's hand. "Let me go and get things ready right now."

She headed up the stairs. Martha began bustling around the kitchen. "Cherry or apple pie, Clark?" she asked. "It's not often I get my son home for dinner anymore."

"Um….how about both?" Clark asked.

Perry chuckled. "I second that."

Martha smiled too. "All right then. I'll just double the pastry recipe….what is it?"

Clark had assumed a listening posture and his face fell.

"Train wreck in San Francisco. I have to go." He stared for just a moment at the kitchen that contained the people he cared about most in the world. The expression in his eyes made Perry realize the price Clark paid, every day, in small ways and large, for his powers. "Tell Lois, right?"

"Of course," Martha said, as Clark blurred into the Superman suit. "Honey, it's pot roast for dinner, so if you can get home in time…." Her tone was not hopeful.

"I'll do what I can," Clark said. He bent down to kiss Martha on the cheek. "Perry," he said, acknowledging his editor. He vanished.

Martha sighed. Then she straightened her shoulders and began bustling

around the kitchen, putting away groceries and pulling out cooking items.

Lois came down the stairs. "We're all set," she called out as she entered the kitchen. Her face fell when she realized Clark's absence.

"Train wreck in San Francisco," Perry said. "He had to go."

Lois sighed too. Jason came tumbling down the stairs.

"Clark had to go out, Jason," Martha said matter-of-factly. "Will you help me make the pies?"

The thought of making the pies obviously drove all thoughts of Clark from the boy's mind. "Sure!"

Perry watched, interested in this glimpse of the daily life of the woman who had raised Superman. He found that Martha Kent was quite good at keeping the attention of active five-year-olds. She got Jason rolling the pastry with the rolling pin, flouring the pin cover as needed. Under careful supervision, Jason chopped a few apples. Perry carefully concealed a smile at the irregular chunks which resulted – he was sure that a Martha Kent apple pie would taste just as good with apples in chunks instead of slices. By unspoken agreement, he and Lois kept quiet as Martha showed Jason how to prepare a pot roast with potatoes, onions, and carrots.

It wasn't long after Martha slipped the pot roast into the oven that Richard knocked at the door.

Jason ran to him. "Daddy!"

"Hi, sport," Richard said, hoisting Jason into the air. "Hello, Martha. Lois. Perry." His wave encompassed all three.

Perry saw a difference right away. The old Richard was back. The Richard who had lingered in his hospital bed, who had brooded about Clark, who had confessed his inner fears to Perry about Lois not being human, was gone.

"Where's Clark?" Richard asked.

The adults looked around at each other and it was Martha who replied. "Train wreck in San Francisco. He had to go."

"Oh." Richard sat down at the table, holding Jason in his lap. "Hey, is that pie?"

"Apple," Martha said. "Jason's been helping make the filling."

"Is that right, sport?" Richard asked his son, ruffling Jason's hair.

"Yeah! Grandma helped me hold the knife, and I cut the apples!"

Perry saw Richard and Lois look at each other. Richard quirked his lips in just the tiniest teasing smile. Lois, trying to look affronted, finally gave up and smiled back. Perry would bet that Richard was going to say something to Jason like, _Gee, you never did anything like that with your Mommy – she never cooks. _And Lois, with her gaze, was telling Richard, _Don't say anything like that if you want to keep your spleen. _Five years of living together, raising a child together, had given Lois and Richard the ability to communicate with looks. Perry recognized the byplay – he himself had a profound respect for Alice's "family look".

"Coffee, Richard?" Martha asked.

"Sure."

Martha checked her floury hands. "Oh, would you mind getting it yourself? There are some mugs in the cupboard right there."

Richard found himself a mug, and wordlessly offered to refill Perry's and Lois's cups as well. They sat down, enjoying watching Jason "help" Martha in her rolling out the pastry for the second pie.

Richard broke the moment of companionable silence. "Tell me about Clark, Martha." It was a courteous request.

Martha lifted her head in surprise. "What do you want to know?"

Richard took a minute to look at the warm and friendly kitchen, ending at Jason. His gaze lingered on the young boy. "Well, now that I know that Superman has a….civilian identity, I'm curious about how it was when he was a kid. I understand you found him?"

Martha in her turn gazed at Jason, who was using the rolling pin to spread the pie pastry out to a totally improbable size and impractical thinness. She smiled, in reminiscence, Perry thought. "Well, Jonathan and I were driving back from town. And it was one of the most frightening situations I've ever been in. There was a meteor shower. You may have heard about it."

"I remember hearing more about the second meteor shower," Richard said honestly. "I was only a kid at the first one."

"Yes, you would have been," Martha murmured, taking in Richard's relative youth. "Anyway, a meteor – or what we thought was a meteor – crashed right in front of us…." Perry listened, interested, as Martha described the events surrounding Clark's arrival on Earth. He'd heard Clark mention how his spaceship had landed in Smallville, but had never heard all the details. He suspected that Clark didn't know all the details himself – after all, how many two-year-olds would be able to remember?

The auburn-haired woman went on, telling how she and Jonathan Kent had agreed, with one unspoken look, that they would take in the small traveler. And how, later, Jonathan had been reluctant, but Martha had forced his hand, telling the sheriff that their adoption had come through, that they'd gained custody of Clark.

Her voice hardened as she detailed the lies they'd had to tell, the favor they'd used from Lionel Luthor, using the Luthor money and influence to create a false adoption record.

"I wish we'd never done that," Martha said quietly. "If I'd known then what I know now….the Luthors would never have been involved with Clark that early in his life." She smiled at Lois. "Actually, it was Lois who taught me a whole bunch about establishing a new identity out of the blue."

Richard raised his eyebrows. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised….but I am."

Lois preened. "I've always been the law-abiding Lois around you, Richard."

A momentary flash of bitterness. "Well, I guess I just have less to hide."

That took the air out of the conversation. After a few seconds, Richard said, "Sorry."

Martha turned to Jason, still wielding the rolling pin gleefully. "No, no. That's too thin. We'll have to re-roll." She gathered up the pastry and crumpled it into a ball, sprinkling flour over it. "Now it'll be tougher," she murmured.

She took a deep breath. "You might ask when we realized there was something different about Clark." Perry listened, fascinated at this glimpse into Clark's early life.

"Aside from the spaceship in the cellar, of course – "

Richard, Lois, and Perry couldn't help but smile at Martha's tart comment.

" – Clark was a regular little boy. Except, even from the start, he was very strong." She carefully stopped Jason from rolling the pastry into paper-thinness again. Carefully folding the rough circle of rolled piecrust in half, Martha gently placed it into the pie pan. Then she unfolded it, leaving rough edges hanging over the pan borders. She took a small paring knife and quickly slashed off the hanging edges, leaving a floured-but-uncooked piecrust in the bottom of the pie pan.

"He got his speed when he was eight. I remember we lost him in the woods one day." Martha stood, a distant look in her eyes. "No, Jason, don't eat the piecrust." She knocked Jason's hand away from one of the cut pastry bits.

The phone rang, distracting them all. Martha answered, and after a few moments, looked uncertainly between Lois and Richard. "Can Jason go early? Robert wants to show him his tree house."

Jason cried out, "Can I go, Mommy? Daddy?"

Lois and Richard gave each other another look. "Yes, you can," Lois said.

Martha talked some more on the phone, then turned to Lois. "Ben Hubbard can't pick up Jason for two more hours. Robert's mother is wondering if you would bring Jason over."

"Mommy?" Jason pleaded.

Lois sighed. "OK. Get your stuff, Jason. We left it upstairs." The child raced upstairs.

"He sounds like a herd of elephants," Lois said resignedly.

"Not _quite _a herd," Richard teased.

Perry said nothing, watching Martha. She looked…..happy. Yes, it was happy, Perry decided.


	56. Step Twelve, Part ThirtySeven

Then there was a short but chaotic interlude, ending with Jason and Lois strapped into the car, Lois headed toward Ben Hubbard's daughter's house. Perry observed with interest that Jason still would not talk to him, and had not made any gesture of goodbye, even though the boy had hugged Martha fiercely. Obviously the child still felt somewhat in awe and fear of Perry, perhaps associating the editor with all the chaos that had surrounded his life since the unfortunate dinner at the White family house. Being avoided and feared like that, even if it was only by a five-year-old, gave Perry a new appreciation of why Clark Kent guarded his human identity so assiduously. It wasn't fun to think that you could scare someone, just by existing.

After Jason and Lois left, Martha guided Perry and Richard back to the kitchen table. "I'm going to put you gentlemen to work," she said. "I have fresh cherries for the pie – but they need to be pitted. And I just happen to have two cherry pitters…."

Richard gave her a look of amazement. "They make a tool for _pitting cherries_?"

Martha returned his look with equal incredulity. Perry burst out laughing. "Not everyone is culinarily challenged like Lois," he managed to choke out. "And not everyone grows up with a chef. Yes, Richard. They do make cherry pitters. In fact, there's a whole line of cooking implements that you've probably never heard of. Garlic pressers….apple corers…"

Martha laughed too, and Perry realized he'd managed to pre-empt what might have been an incredulous reply. "Well, if you two can start on the cherries…." She showed Richard how to adjust the cherry in the device for easy pitting, and set out a bowl for the cherries and a bowl for the stones. "Perry?"

"No need, Martha," Perry said. "My youth was not _totally _misspent. I _can _pit cherries."

"Since Jason managed to eat about a quarter of the pastry, despite my best efforts…." Martha checked the tiny pastry ball that cowered in the bottom of her mixing bowl, dwarfed by the bowl's high sides. "….I'd better make some more pastry."

The three settled into their tasks. There was something rather fulfilling about this, sitting and working on a mindless yet comforting task while the odors of pot roast and vegetables slowly filled the room.

"Martha," Richard began.

"Yes?"

"Can I give you something?"

Martha raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

Richard got up, went outdoors. Perry heard the door of their rental car open and close. Richard came in, carrying what Perry recognized as a lead-lined film bag. He handed it to Martha.

Martha opened it, blanched, and closed it quickly.

"Thank you, Richard," she said evenly. "Is there a story behind this?"

"Clark and I were at the fence line…" Richard began. Perry listened with interest as his nephew told the story that Perry had heard previously. "I didn't want to bring it in the house with Clark and Jason here. I figured you would know what to do with it."

The worry lines smoothed from Martha's face as she listened to Richard. "Thank you," she repeated. She left the room, carrying the bag. Perry raised a questioning eyebrow at his nephew.

"Tell you later," Richard muttered.

Martha's return to the kitchen coincided with Lois pulling up in the drive, back from her errand to take Jason to his sleepover. Once again, they were all ensconced in the comfortable kitchen, making quiet conversation over cups of coffee.

Martha told numerous "early Clark" stories, Clark's adventures before he officially donned the Suit and became Superman. Lois interjected frequently, her normally tense face becoming vivacious as she remembered the unusual happenings of her youth.

Perry listened, fascinated. It must have been a relief for Martha – finally! – to be able to talk about some of the things she'd dealt with. Perry knew well the pressure of a secret untold. He looked at his nephew and saw that Richard was equally engrossed. But this didn't stop Richard from eyeing Lois at intervals with a questioning gaze.

"So you knew about Clark since high school?" Richard asked Lois, interested.

"He wasn't quite as good as covering up his saves then," Lois agreed. By unspoken consent, none of them mentioned the Kryptonian masking technology. "He slipped a few times. When I saw him catch a crashing car – in midair – I realized Clark Kent was a little different."

"That must have been interesting," Richard murmured, and settled back in his seat. Perry noticed that the younger man remained quiet as Martha and Lois gradually settled into a two-sided conversation of "remember when?", "I can't believe it happened that way", and "If it weren't for Clark saving me…."

Perry almost wished he hadn't given his word of confidentiality – some of the stories were dynamite. And he had a feeling that Lois and Martha were censoring some of their tales – there was a mention of the Green Arrow, and Lois zoomed away from that topic at a hundred miles an hour. Perry stared into his coffee cup, wondering just how much Lois knew - now that she had her full memory back - about the metahuman community. Specifically the superhero portion of the metahuman community. He knew better than to ask her outright, though.

The afternoon passed quickly. When Martha began bustling around the kitchen once again, Perry asked if there was time for him to take a short walk.

"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour," Martha said.

"OK, then. Richard and I are going for a walk."

"We are?" Richard asked. Perry shot him a look. "Oh. We are." He got up, cleared his coffee cup. "See you soon."

The two men exited the farmhouse.

"The story you told," Perry began, "that's not quite what I heard from Clark."

A quizzical look from Richard.

"He said that he gave you the kryptonite to keep on hand."

Understanding flooded Richard's face. "He did." Richard braced his shoulders. "Perry, when I was out there with Clark….I was busy worrying. What was he going to do? What was Lois going to do?"

Perry kept on walking, giving his nephew a chance to speak.

"And then, that kryptonite fell from the gravel truck, and Clark was on the ground."

"Uh-huh." Non-committal.

Richard stopped walking, turned to face Perry. "And Perry, right then, seeing Clark at my mercy, I realized something."

"Yes?"

"I shouldn't be worrying about what Clark was going to do, or what Lois can do. I should worry about what I'm going to do." Richard nodded his head. "I thought about it then. I could choose to let Clark lay there, maybe even die. I've seen him affected by kryptonite before, when Lex Luthor stabbed him. I know that stuff can kill him."

Perry remained silent.

"And I chose to do what I could do to help," Richard said softly. "I could have a lot of resentment about what they did, the lies they told….in fact, I still do." A moment of silence, then Richard said firmly, "But I decided to choose to act the right way, act in a way that I could look back on later with no regrets. I can't control their actions, but I can control mine."

Perry nodded.

Richard went on. "And, maybe he is the Man of Steel, and he can move mountains, and all that. But Jason is my son. I love him." Richard inhaled deeply. "And, against that, even Superman must give way."

"So?"

"It was weird, Perry. I had this strange confidence. In fact, I still do," Richard confessed. "I'm not afraid anymore. I don't need kryptonite to protect myself. Clark will respect me. We'll work something out."

"And Lois?"

Richard sighed deeply. "I could see it this afternoon. She was right." He sighed again. "I only knew half of Lois Lane. All the history she has with Clark….I saw it in the newsroom, even before she got her memory back. The passion she has for her work…she never showed that with me." Regret filled his voice. "How can I ask her to be less than she is?"

Perry nodded. He knew what Richard meant.

"I think I'm going to ask you – officially, you know – to transfer me to Gotham City," Richard said musingly. "I don't think I'll be able to be in the newsroom with Lois and Clark."

Perry nodded again. Inwardly he gave a sigh of relief. It was unworthy, but at least this way the problem (this particular problem, anyway), in his newsroom would be solved.

"At least for awhile."

"And Jason?"

"Visitation, you mean?" Richard laughed lightly. "Hey, with Superman on our side, travel is the least of our worries."

Perry chuckled too. In silent agreement, the two men turned back to the Kent farmhouse. A motion out of the corner of Perry's eye caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Superman descending from the air, landing behind the barn. A second later, Clark, dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, came jogging to meet them.

"Hey," Clark said.

Perry and Richard shrugged. "Hey," they replied. Perry felt he should say something more. "How was San Francisco?"

Clark looked down. "Oh, the usual." His voice was grim. "Am I in time for dinner?"

"I think your mother delayed it a bit," Perry said, biting off a grin. "We're just headed back inside."

They opened the door to the delicious smell of pot roast and fruit pies. Martha and Lois looked up, smiled. Perry found it interesting that Lois smiled with the same intensity for both Richard and Clark. She had a different smile for himself, a less romantic one.

"Glad you could make it back, Clark," Martha said.

Clark nodded. "I made an extra effort." The group sat at the table.

* * *

Later, Perry remembered that conversation as the start of Clark and Lois' new life. Richard and Lois sprang right into discussion of Jason's custody, the discussion lasting throughout dinner, dessert, and into coffee. Martha and Perry sat back and witnessed, their presence serving to moderate any intemperate reactions. Perry found it interesting that Clark, on the most part, sided with Richard.

"Weekends?" probed Lois.

"Every other," Richard said firmly.

"A day during the week?" inserted Clark.

"No," Richard and Lois said simultaneously. They exchanged a surprised look at their agreement.

"Jason has school – " Lois began.

"I've been bringing him back and forth every day all the time he's been here in Smallville," Clark said calmly. "It's not like it's a big deal."

Richard looked bemused. "How'd you do that?"

"Well, you know…." Clark said, making a wavy flying-motion gesture with his hands.

"No, what I meant was, why did the school let you pick him up? You're not on the list….right?"

Clark turned his head away, abashed. "I forged Lois' signature on the approved caretaker list."

Richard stared.

"Well, you were in the hospital, and Lois was…." Clark trailed off.

A smile crept across Richard's face. "Superman? _A forger_?" He chuckled. "There's got to be some good blackmail material in that." He met Clark's gaze and suddenly the two men were laughing.

"No. Not a day during the week," Richard said, "because I want Jason for summers."

"Not the whole summer," Lois said, and this time Martha echoed her.

Richard caught Martha's anxious gaze and his face softened. "At least a month," he said.

Lois looked at Clark. "At least a month," the big man agreed, "but he gets to spend at least a month here in Smallville, too."

"Perry?" Lois asked.

"What are you asking me for?" Perry barked, concealing his inner amusement. "I'm not involved. I'm staying out of this. Totally."

"Oh?" Lois asked.

"All right, Lois, you can bring him in the newsroom in the afternoons. The kid's got some promise," Perry allowed. His inner Pit Bull couldn't resist the chance to see how Clark would bond with his newly discovered son. And, what with Lois being so engrossed in her stories, and Clark having his "other job", Perry figured that once in awhile, Uncle Perry might get the child care duty. To which he was not totally opposed.

"And you'll tell him about his parentage," Richard said, suddenly serious.

"I will," Clark said, "but not yet."

Richard and Perry raised their brows. Lois didn't – obviously they'd talked about this before.

"He'll need to know soon, when the powers start coming in," Clark began. "From what Lois said, he's already manifested some strength. But that was probably a fluke. I didn't start showing signs till I was eight or so." Once again, he looked away. "Jason should get settled in….the new situation, before we start throwing more stuff at him."

"What's he going to end up like?" Perry asked, curious. The atmosphere was just informal enough that he could ask that question.

Clark sighed. "I have absolutely no idea."

Martha reached over and took Clark's hand. "We had absolutely no idea, either," she began, "and a lot less knowledge than you have right now." She smiled wistfully. "But I think Clark turned out OK, didn't you?"

Perry had to nod. "I guess so."

Everyone at the table went silent for a moment. Martha jumped up. "I'd better get going on the dishes…."

Richard got up at the same time. "Lois, can I speak with you outside? We need to settle some things."

Lois nodded.

Clark got up too. "Mom, I'll get the dishes. You just relax."

Richard and Lois walked out the door. Lois looked back at Clark and said, "You might want to take a long time doing those dishes."

Clark took the hint. "OK." He began clearing the table.

Pangs of conscience assaulted Perry, and he said, "Oh, heck. Martha, you cooked a great dinner. The least I can do is help with the dishes."

Before Martha could protest that Perry was a guest, Clark jumped in. "That's great, Perry. I'll wash. You can dry."

"I've got a better idea," Perry said. "You know where everything goes. I'll wash. _You _dry."

Clark weighed his options, and not surprisingly, obeyed his editor. "You got it."

The domestic tasks soothed Perry, but not as much as having his nephew at peace with himself. Perry knew what a struggle it was to live with resentment. It poisoned one's days, left one lying awake at night. Richard had moved past that now.

"Richard asked for a transfer to Gotham City," Perry said, out of the blue.

"He doesn't have to do that," Clark responded. Martha, Perry noticed, said nothing. He thought that she might approve of Richard being farther away from Lois.

Perry thought about asking Clark what Lois and Richard were talking about, then chided himself. Why would he assume that Clark would eavesdrop on an intimate conversation like that? In fact, given Clark's cheerful talk as he dried dishes and put them away, he was probably trying very hard not to listen. And besides, Lois and Richard had been together over five years. There would be myriad details to sort out, from movement of Lois' belongings to division of joint property. As the song went, "Breaking up is hard to do."

Eventually, the dishes were done, Perry and the others had had two more cups of coffee, and Lois and Richard were still outdoors discussing…whatever. Perry caught himself yawning, despite the coffee. It had been a full day.

"I'm going out," he said gruffly. "I need my ride back to the motel."

Clark and Martha made no protest. Perry pushed open the back door and stepped out into the moonlit night.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim moonlight before he saw the shapes of Lois and Richard standing by the fence. Perry could see that the taut defensiveness was gone from Lois' posture. The chirping of crickets filled the air, and Perry could hear frogs croaking from the pond a few fields over.

Lois stood to face Richard. She took his left arm in her hands, her figure silhouetted by the half-moon's light. Perry once again saw the ethereal light that was Lois' healing power. Here in the darkness, it shone more brightly, the moonlight mingling its rays with the glowing nimbus. As Perry watched, the glow faded, and Lois dropped her hands. She staggered slightly, and Richard moved to catch her in his arms. There was moment of tense stillness. Then Lois reached up and kissed Richard on the cheek. Perry saw regret, and closure, in that kiss. The two separated.

"They're probably waiting for us," Perry heard his nephew say, the soft voice carrying through the quiet of the farm night.

"Yes," Lois agreed. She took Richard's hand, and together, the two of them headed back inside.

* * *

Richard and Perry got ready to leave. "Thank you, Martha, for your hospitality," Perry said seriously. "Best vacation I've had in years."

"That's because it's the _only_ vacation you've had in years," Lois interjected impishly.

"Ignore that," Perry retorted, addressing his comment to Martha. "Our plane leaves early tomorrow morning – we'll meet you back in Metropolis. Lois. Clark." He nodded at the couple.

"Perry," Lois said, and hugged him. Clark shook his hand, then turned, and extended his hand to Richard. With no hesitation, Richard stepped up and shook it. He shook Lois' as well, eschewing any closer display of affection. "It's good to get this worked out," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," Clark said. Perry saw how uncomfortable Clark had been with the situation, and how much better he felt now. Lois said nothing; Perry assumed that she and Richard had made their good-byes privately, outdoors.

Richard turned to Martha. "Thank you for everything, Martha – for all you hospitality." He smiled. "And for the best dinner I've had in a long time."

Perry looked at Lois to see if she was insulted but found Lois smiling. Apparently Lois knew her cooking limitations. Praising Martha's cooking was only stating the obvious.

"And thank you for taking care of Jason," Richard said softly. "I can't thank you enough for that."

Martha wiped away a tear. "You don't have to thank me for that, Richard," she said. She stood back, looked Richard straight in the eye. "You raised him well." She stepped forward, enfolded Richard in a hug. "Come back anytime, Richard. You are always welcome at the Kent Farm."

* * *

As Perry and Richard drove back to their motel through the quiet night, Richard broke their shared silence.

"I took your advice."

"Um?" Perry asked. He couldn't remember what advice he'd given Richard.

"Clark and I were just sitting there, half in the mud. I'd just thrown away all the kryptonite. He started telling me about the Fortress of Solitude and how his father was an artificial intelligence there, or there was an AI of his father, or whatever," Richard said musingly. "And he started talking about his training there and how the AI had fixed him up with a spaceship to go back to Krypton."

"Uh-huh," Perry said.

"And I asked him to tell me about his father."

Silence.

"What did he say?" Perry asked, finally.

Richard smiled. "He started telling me about Jonathan Kent."


	57. Epilogue

_Six Months Later_

"Heck of a bachelor party, Clark," Perry said semi-accusingly.

Clark raised his eyebrows. "What? You mean sitting with me, alone, on my balcony, the night before my wedding? Drinking ginger ale?" He gestured rhetorically. "What could be finer?"

Perry couldn't help laughing. "Just funnin' you." He took a deep sip of his ginger ale and leaned back, admiring the Metropolis skyline. Oh sure, from Clark's apartment, you couldn't see much of the skyline, but a few skyscrapers did poke over the unadorned expanse of warehouse brick wall that faced Clark's balcony. "I'm glad you suggested this. We had the rehearsal dinner, your Mom and Ben Hubbard get to go to bed early – "

"Preferably in separate rooms," Clark muttered. Perry chuckled. Love was in the air and Clark was having a minor conniption about the thought of his mother actually _dating._

" – you get a good night's sleep before the big day – "

"Ha!" Clark said gloomily. "Like I'm going to be able to sleep."

"- and neither of us can go out drinking anyway, so why not hang out here?" Perry took another swig. "Besides, I can testify from personal experience, it's not all that much fun to walk down the aisle when you're all hung over."

Clark shrugged. "Not an option."

"And lucky for you." Perry changed the subject. "Um, not that I'm wondering or anything, but weren't more people invited?"

Clark looked abashed. "Well, Richard….I really didn't invite him. To the bachelor party, I mean. He did get an invitation to the wedding."

"Which he told me that he wouldn't be attending."

Clark stared off into the distance. "I understand that. I couldn't have gone to Lois' wedding to someone else, either." There was a moment of awkward silence until Clark leapt to fill it. "Jason – well, you know, he needs to go to bed early. I did ask Jimmy, but he said that he wanted to go over the photography arrangements one last time to make sure they were all set."

"I hope so," Perry growled.

"Perry, did you put the fear of God into him?" Clark asked, amused.

"No, I just told him that if there was any problem with the photos or video that he'd never work in this town again."

Clark choked on his ginger ale.

Perry hastened to defend himself. "I don't think he took me all that seriously."

"Not too sure about that, are you?" Clark teased.

"It's Lois. I think he takes her threats a lot more seriously than mine," Perry confessed.

"Yeah. I do too." Clark smiled. "Then, if I could have invited the rest of the newsroom guys, but then I couldn't have invited you. Bad for discipline and all that, you know." He looked straight in Perry's eyes. "I wanted to be with you more."

Perry leaned back, touched. Time to change the subject. "Interesting how the newsroom guys – and the gals too – all are so friendly with you now, Clark."

"I think being with Lois has allowed me to come out of my shell." Clark's eyes softened. "So to speak."

"They're just impressed that she hasn't disemboweled you yet," Perry said, "impressed that you've tamed Mad Dog Lane."

Clark laughed softly. "I could never tame her. I _would _never tame her. She is who she is."

"Yep," Perry agreed, smiling to himself. The two men sat in companionable silence for a minute, enjoying the spring air.

"You and Lois going to have more kids?" Perry blurted out. He'd been wondering.

Clark didn't take offense at the intrusive question. They were back in one of their AA talks, where anything went. "I wish we could," he said sadly.

Perry raised an eyebrow. "I thought that there were other hybrids," he ventured. "Lois told me about that Kryptonian living here that had a son – Dax-Ur? And what about the Kawatche skinwalkers?"

It was Clark's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Wow, you've done your homework," he said.

"Well, you know, sit down with me and a cup of coffee, and I'll listen to what you say. Your mom's a good conversationalist."

"I'll vouch for that." Clark stared off into space. "Actually, Perry, Kryptonians and humans aren't genetically compatible, at least not without some serious tinkering. Dax-Ur – well, he was a Kryptonian expatriate who had worked on the Brain Interactive Construct – so he had access to very sophisticated technology. I think when he fled Krypton to come to Earth, he brought a whole bag of tricks. It must have included the genetic modification technology."

"What about his son?" Perry asked. "The son would be half-Kryptonian." _Like yours, _he didn't need to add.

"I keep an eye on Jackson," Clark said. "He never knows – never knew what he could do." A grim expression crossed his face. "His father put blue kryptonite on him. He's been wearing a blue kryptonite pendant all his life."

"Blue?" Perry asked curiously. He'd seen the green, known of the red, but hadn't heard of the blue.

"Strips the powers without the pain of the green," Clark explained shortly. "I don't know what long-term exposure will do. Would Jackson have any powers if he took off the pendant? I'm sure he wouldn't know how to use them or how to control them."

"Oh," Perry said, musing. He leaned back in his chair.

"And the Kawatche – well, when Kryptonians were visiting, back in the day, Krypton was at the height of its, well, power and glory," Clark said, again getting that inward look. "From what the AI has said, the use of….I guess the closest term would be nanotechnology….for genetic compatibility was routine then."

"But not now," Perry said, guessing.

"No," Clark said quietly. "Just one of the many things lost when Krypton exploded." Bitterly, he said, "I may have what Jor-El said was 'the accumulated knowledge of the twenty-eight known galaxies' in the crystals in my Fortress – but I'm coming to realize how much was actually left out."

"But you do have Jason."

"Yes, Perry, but that was such a fluke. I had undergone a once-in-a-lifetime, um, procedure to depower me, and Lois had her meteor ability…The first part of that….well, it can't be done again."

Perry nodded.

"On the other hand," Clark said, looking marginally more cheerful, "is that I've put the AI to work in trying to rediscover the nanotechnology. Who knows? Maybe that information _is _in the crystals and I just have to find it."

"Uh-huh."

Clark continued, semi-desperately. "Actually, Lois has a theory…."

Perry leaned forward, the legs of his chair meeting the balcony floor with a thump. "A theory?"

"You sure got interested in a hurry there."

"Well, tales of Krypton in a galaxy far far away are certainly interesting, but remote. You know, far far away. Lois's theories are right here, right now, and they usually pan out," Perry said. "I wonder if I could put her intuition to work on lottery numbers."

"Well, Lois's _theory_," Clark said, in a pretended huff, "has everything to do with Krypton in a galaxy far far away. And if you don't apologize I won't tell you." His broad smile belied his words.

"OK," Perry said semi-mockingly. "I'm sorry I implied your home planet was irrelevant."

"And well you should be, Mr. Big-Time Editor," Clark teased. "It is _so _relevant."

"Just get to the theory."

"All right." Clark took a final swig of ginger ale, just to heighten the moment. "Lois's theory…."

"Yes?"

"Oh, all right. Lois' theory is that Kryptonians came here in the past, interbred with the Earth folk – for example, the Kawatche skinwalker legends. And that Kryptonian genes might actually convey a heightened survival advantage."

"Seems reasonable," Perry said, considering. "The speed and strength….I'll go with it."

"And that many people – Earth people – now might have a sprinkling of Kryptonian genes."

"OK."

"And – the big payoff – Lois thinks that exposure to meteor rock might activate these genes, or have them express inappropriately, thereby giving so-called meteor freaks their freakish powers."

Perry set down his ginger ale, thought about it for a bit. "I like it," he said musingly. "It explains why non-Smallvillians can have meteor powers, and why there's such a high concentration of meteor freaks in Smallville."

"Because that's where the meteor rocks are."

"So you get people with latent Kryptonian genetic material. They move to Smallville, or wear meteor rock jewelry – "

Clark shuddered.

"And bingo! Genes turn on, instant meteor freak? That's the theory?"

"It makes for good conversation. And do _you _have a better theory?"

"It doesn't explain why eighty percent of meteor freaks go insane, though," Perry said, dodging the challenge.

Clark shrugged. "If you had a TV, and you made one or two changes to the wiring, what're the chances that the changes you made will actually _improve _the picture or the sound? The brain is awesomely complex. What are the chances that some biochemical anomaly will change things for the better? It's probably something like that."

"Possible," Perry allowed, being just in that mellow state where much seemed possible, if not probable. "But it doesn't explain why meteor freaks have powers which native Kryptonians – _you _– don't."

"The human mix? Dilution of the trait? Heterozygosity with an incongruent allele? What the people really wanted, down deep in their subconscious – you know, the power of mind over matter? I didn't say the theory explained _everything._"

"If you're really serious about the scientific method, you'll find a way to test it," Perry offered.

"Not so much," Clark said wryly. "I think I'll just let things continue to astound and amaze me every day."

The two men shared gazes, laughed, and took a companionable drink together.

"How's Richard, by the way?" asked Perry.

"Fine," Clark replied. "It's funny. I actually get along a lot better with him now than Lois does."

Perry thought about the years his nephew and Lois had spent together, a marriage in all but name. "I'll think I'll just leave that one right where it's at."

Clark chuckled. "Richard is a good guy, Perry. Lois wouldn't have been with him so long if he weren't." Clark took another sip of his drink, then stared at his glass with disfavor.

"What?"

"Drink's warm," Clark said, and pursed his lips and blew. The glass immediately frosted over.

"Damn," Perry said. "And to think I was just going to get up and get you some more ice." He extended his own glass. "Chill mine?"

"Sure."

Another lean-back on the comfortable balcony furniture. Clark had really established a homey feeling to his new dwelling. The two men sipped their drinks in companionable silence.

"Good of you to get the Smallville contingent out here," Perry offered. "Ben Hubbard said that you paid for everyone's airfare and hotel." He was curious, but didn't want to ask Clark directly. He knew what Clark was paid, after all. And, given Metropolis prices, this had to be putting a serious dent in Clark's wallet. Martha Kent, Ben Hubbard, Ben's three children, their spouses and _their _children (Perry thought they'd been invited just to give Jason someone to play and stay with), and several other Smallville-area friends and neighbors – all were attending the wedding, and staying for a week afterward, courtesy of Clark (mostly) and Lois.

"You're wondering how I can afford it," Clark said outright.

Perry didn't bother lying. "Yep."

"Back before I left for Krypton, I made a bunch of diamonds for my mother," Clark began.

"_Made _some diamonds?"

Amused, Clark said, "They're only crystallized carbon. Get a piece of coal, subject it to heat and pressure….you get the picture." He mimicked making a fist and squeezing.

All Perry could do was sit back and take another sip of soda. He thought he'd heard everything, but apparently not.

"I wanted to make sure my mom would be OK financially when I left," Clark said. "She and my dad had such a hard time on the farm when I was a kid….I didn't want her to have to go through that again."

"So how'd your mother explain a bunch of diamonds?" Perry said. "Senators – even ex-Senators – usually have the media keeping a gimlet eye on their finances."

"She told me that she said that she'd gotten a delayed inheritance from her father's family. You know, the Clarks of Metropolis? The well-known law firm Clarks? Apparently my grandfather's mother had quite a few pieces of diamond jewelry. That's her story and she's sticking to it. She's the only one left now, so there's no one to contradict her."

"And?"

"My mother sold the diamonds. She kept half, and put half in an account for me. She made the investments and paid all the taxes. When I came back from Krypton, she had made a little nest egg for _me_. Not really what I intended, but she wouldn't take it back." Clark shrugged. "I don't really need a lot of money, so why not give everyone a Metropolis vacation? And it's not charity, which Ben and everyone wouldn't accept. It's just so they can be at my wedding."

Perry nodded.

"Plus, my mom, Ben, and his family will be keeping Jason for two weeks while Lois and I are away."

"Aha, the ulterior motive!"

"You got me there, Perry." Clark smiled.

"Well, if you're going around passing out diamonds, be sure to make me a sackful." Curiosity overtook Perry and he couldn't help asking, "Are they the raw stones, or do you cut them?"

"Oh, cut, of course," Clark said. "The laser vision – a handy item. And it increases the value of the stones."

"That does it," Perry said, laughing. "I'm putting my order in right now. I want a necklace for Alice. Each stone had better be at least a quarter-carat. Plus a bracelet. No, bracelets."

"Why not just order the whole parure?" Clark said wryly, getting into the spirit. "Alice deserves it all. Let's see," he said, making tally marks in the air with his finger as he enumerated. "A comb, a tiara, a diadem, a bandeau, a pair of bracelets, pins, rings, earrings – both the drop earrings _and_ the cluster stud earrings. And a brooch. And don't forget the belt clasp that might be worn over a fine dress." He shot Perry a teasing glance. "I'll let you provide the fine dress."

"Already taken care of. She's got loads of fine dresses."

The two men burst out laughing. After a minute, Clark said shyly, "You know, Perry, if you or Alice really ever _did_ need money…."

"I know. Thanks," Perry said softly. Embarrassed, he got up and stretched. "Excuse me a minute here." He padded down to Clark's washroom and used the facilities. He came back to find that Clark had gotten them each a new bottle.

"So, are you all rehearsal-ed out?" Clark asked.

"I'm fine."

"Sure you don't want to be the minister?" Clark asked teasingly.

"I never should have told you about that trip to Graceland and my ordination in the Church of the Blue Suede Deliverance," Perry grumbled.

"You have to admit that it has a certain cachet."

"I think that walking Lois down the aisle and being your best man is more than enough for one person at a wedding ceremony." A thought struck Perry. "Hey, I should be asking _you. _ What if Superman is needed?"

Clark said firmly, "Superman is taking the next two weeks off."

"Can he do that?"

"Yes." Clark sipped his drink. His voice and expression turned serious. "Lois really did have it right, you know, when she wrote that article. The world doesn't really _need _Superman. Sure, he's nice to have, and all that, but he was away for five years, and the world got along OK."

"I don't know if I would say that," Perry said quietly, thinking of recent world events.

"It proved that the world can do without Superman if it has to."

"I don't know, Clark," Perry argued. "The world was a lot darker place while you were gone. It's like….well, there was no one to look up to. No higher ideals."

"I think you're making too much of me, Perry," Clark said.

"We'll just have to agree to disagree on that one."

Clark inhaled. "Lois is the most important thing in the world to me. She's my priority." He looked across at Perry. "When she was lost to me….I felt like I was behind a window. I could see through it, but I couldn't feel."

"I know," Perry said. "When I was drinking….it was like that. It was like everything was behind dirty glass. I didn't have to feel anything, I just had another drink. And everything was fuzzy. I didn't have to look at anything too closely." He shared Clark's gaze. "I just fell into living that way, and I didn't know how to get out of it. Then you came."

"Like me. When I really started getting my powers," Clark said softly, "I was like that too. Behind a window. Not connecting with the world." He looked at Perry. "That's why I liked the red kryptonite. It made me feel _alive_. I wasn't the guy in the plastic bubble. I was actually part of the world." He cast his eyes downward. "But you know, the red K was bad for me, and I found out if I worked at it, I could get the same feeling by helping other people."

Perry nodded.

"And then I lost Lois – she didn't remember. And I went right back behind the window – I could see through it, I just couldn't _feel._ Superman at the end there, he wasn't part of the world. He just floated above. Nothing affected him. So he went to Krypton," Clark said. "And when I came back, and Lois knew….it was like the window broke, and I was there in the middle of everything, and it hurt at first. But now I'm actually _living_. Not just existing."

"Me too," Perry said. "You and the Twelve Steps pulled me out of the drinking. Actually _living_ is harder than just existing. But you have a lot more fun."

"Every day, I wake up, and I wonder how Lois will surprise me today."

"Me too. Well, not Lois, but Alice, and the _Planet, _and you. Plus," Perry said, "you have love. The only thing that makes life _worth_ living."

Clark nodded his head solemnly. "Yes."

"Not to say that you won't have your arguments," Perry said briskly. "There'll be some days where you'll love her, but you won't like her all that much. And she'll feel the same. Take it from an old married man. But the Twelve Steps will get you through that, too. Tell her the truth. And – you know this one, Clark – "

The other man joined Perry. "Take it one day at a time."

THE END

_Author's note: The reference to Perry being the minister, and being ordained by the Church of Blue Suede Deliverance is taken from the "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" TV show. In that show, Perry was quite an Elvis fan, and got his ordination when he visited Graceland (Elvis' home.) Also, in "L&C", Perry did indeed officiate at the Lane-Kent wedding, stepping in to save the day when the originally scheduled clergyman didn't show up. In my fic, Perry thinks about presiding, but I gave him some other tasks to do - walking Lois up the aisle, and being Clark's best man.  
_

_Thanks to all those who read and especially those who gave feedback. You gave me a boost, something to look forward to, and new ideas of looking at the material. It started to be only a small story about Twelve Steps, but it grew and grew. Thanks to all of you who demanded more._

_I am particularly grateful to those who reviewed, including **becs1, ColleenJoy, frostykist, jack1487, Mari2Anne, MatGlue, Perkulator, Spidey-phd, Stormatcher, and tepiestar. **Very special thanks to those who gave multiple reviews, especially **thekiller00, winthjo, Windblown Wanderer, crimsongoddess01, countryLexluv, Marth Heart Smallville, waffleninja, **and of course **MysticWolf1**, who I think reviewed every single chapter. If I have inadvertently omitted anyone I apologize. Your feedback was an inspiration to me.  
_


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